Ouroboros
by Nitramy
Summary: A certain boy from Little Whinging learns about a world of magic long before his eleventh year, and makes a new/old friend...
1. Year Zero and Year One

_**Ouroboros (n):**__ A circular figure of a serpent, dragon or worm eating its own tail, a representation of the continuous cycle of life and death._

This is a not-entirely-serious crackfic.

* * *

_**Ouroboros**_

**A Harry Potter and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha crossover**

* * *

_**Year Zero**_

* * *

**Found**

* * *

He sips the cup of tea slowly, savoring the flavor - one of the few comforts of home in this faraway and lonely place.

They have the same DNA. Same faces, same hair, same types of physique.

They even respond in the same way to emotion... to logic... to arousal.

But somehow, talking to them, living with them... all of it felt different. Like he was the only one in the cave looking in a different direction, if he applied Plato's allegory to his current situation.

The man sighed forlornly. It had been too long since he felt like an alien in this place.

A knock came to the door, quickly snapping him out of his funk.

"Sir?"

"Come in."

The door opened, with two brunettes walking in.

"Ah, so how were my operational estimates? Did the projected results go according to plan?"

"Yes, sir," one of them reply. "Clyde is doing wonderfully in the task you appointed him."

The other one continues. "Even though it has been barely a week since the engagement, he's not skipping a beat. But... that's not why we're here, sir. We thought you should know this first."

She hands him a folder, which he quickly reads through... and then he lets out a frightened gasp. "An A-Rank linker core activating? Close to where I was... found?" he asked with consternation.

"Yes, sir."

He let out a tense breath. Something like this would raise so many red flags in the organization he is currently working for... but after peering through the report, his curiosity was piqued even further. _Odd. The kind of output this has... I'll wager my pauldrons that it's a toddler of around five to six years old._

_I think I know who to delegate this to._

"Aria, Lotte... take care of this for me."

"Off the books, Colonel?" the two girls asked in unison.

He nodded.

* * *

Judging by the frightened looks on the couple's faces, Aria and Lotte guessed (correctly) that they were the ones responsible for the target's hapless fate.

For one, they had found the source of the A-rank linker core in a place called Little Whinging, not too far from where their master had been found after tending to an injured Enforcer all those years ago.

Based on what they did when they saw the uniforms, the couple and their own toddler-aged son seemed to think this was a visit by the local Social Services department, and they didn't feel the need to correct them.

"Fine, take the freak - er, boy with you! We've hit nothing but bad times ever since he got here."

"Mr. Dursley, if we find out that you have mistreated this boy more than what we've seen, you'll be hearing from us again. With reinforcements."

The couple's faces seemed to go paler and paler with each of Lotte's words.

"Ma'am, we..."

"But that boy is..."

"Excuse me," Aria interrupted the couple, "but we will have him undergo physical and psychological evaluation. Expect a visit from us within the next week."

The woman fainted dead away while her husband didn't seem to know what to do, but it was irrelevant to Lotte, who was already leading the boy by the hand out of the house.

Right outside the house, as soon as Aria put up a more in-depth diagnosis, a torrent of curses escaped the familiar's mouth.

"What's wrong, Aria?"

"Parasitic entity with its own linker core. Low rank, but is about 5% integrated into his magic system... and growing. We need to get the boy back to Mid and that thing out of him ASAP."

"Hold on, Harold," Lotte said as she signaled the ship for transport back, holding onto the child's hand. "Everything will be okay now. We promise."

The boy's eyes brightened for the first time since they went to see the source of the magical anomaly, and the two familiars felt something tug at their heartstrings.

_No child should be locked up in a cupboard for something like this._

* * *

**Reborn**

* * *

"Doctor, you called?"

"A fascinating sample," the analyst began, "yet flawed. What you have here is a fragment of a human linker core, given sentience but limited independence, almost as if it was bound to its original source."

"Is it any danger to the boy, Dr. Marion?"

"None tangentially," the analyst replied. "The procedure that implanted this parasite into the boy's magic system has also bound the boy, the parasite, and the source of the parasite together. So, based on my findings, this is less a parasitic and more a symbiotic entity. That's not the oddest thing about it, though."

"What is?"

"It's still malleable, meaning we can recode it," Dr. Marion explained. "The stranger thing is, when we mapped out a sample and converted it into readable code, I found out that during the implantation process, several significant pieces of its original source code were lost. If this were an Intelligent Device, it would have no limiter, no self-diagnostic capabilities, and no self-preservative subroutines... that's it!"

"Back to my questions, Doctor. What can we do about the... symbiote?"

Dr. Marion smiled. "Well, that's where the magic ends and the **SCIENCE** begins. I'll use a custom source code template for Intelligent Devices as a foundation, extract the symbiote, convert it to the Mid-Childa standard, and insert any missing lines of code that will appear after the conversion process."

"Won't that harm the symbiote in any way?"

"Colonel Graham," the doctor said, "you do remember that code-based conversions and the creation of AI's for Intelligent Devices revolve around high-energy procedures, do you not? It's basically reformatting on an atomic level."

"I do now," the colonel said. "How long do you think this will take?"

"Around two to three hours. Inform your subordinates, Colonel."

"I will, Dr. Marion. And thank you."

A nod was the reply given to him as he left the laboratory, the doctor cackling rather ominously while she started working on her newest discovery.

Dr. Marion typed in the query.

"What is your name?"

"I am Lord Voldemort."

She pressed the override key, began the reformatting and source code implantation procedure, and sang a tune all the while.

"This was a triumph," she began as the symbiote's source code was being repaired, "I'm making a note here - huge success."

She typed again.

"Device name and designation."

"Device name and designation: Ouroboros, Intelligent Device. Serial Number: IM-7755A. But you can call me Tom."

"It's hard to overstate my satisfaction," the doctor continued as she uploaded the missing command lines and subroutines needed to complete the Intelligent Device, "Aperture Science - we do what we must because we can."

"For the good of all of us, except the ones who are dead."

* * *

"I'm sorry, Gil," the official said. "Mid-Childa regulations forbid you from adopting the child, especially when he still has a family."

"A family that had him sleeping in a cupboard under the stairs," Colonel Virgil Graham said, seething, "a family that left him a pale and malnutritioned toddler of four when they should be doing their damn job. Sir, don't take this the wrong way, but the law is an ass."

The Bureau official nodded in sympathy. "As asinine the law may tend to be, it is still the law. However, I think I found a loophole that you can squeeze the boy through - for only nine to ten weeks annually, at most."

The colonel grinned. "School vacation."

"Exactly."

* * *

The pudgy man was currently hovering inches above the air as the official had him by the collar and was lifting him without breaking a sweat.

"My subordinates will be checking up on him randomly, irregularly, and most of all, right when your puny little mind least expects it. If they see anything wrong with the boy... ANYTHING at all... the last thing you will see before a violent, fiery, and painful death will BE. MY. FACE," the man said, barely-concealed fury punctuating the last few words before he dropped Vernon Dursley to the ground. "And don't try that two-faced crap with me, because I'll be watching you, Dursley. I'll be watching your every move. When you slip even just a little, I'll be there before you even know it. I'll take your ass down; I'll take your ass down to Chinatown, as they say."

He lifted Dursley up by the collar again. "We clear?"

Vernon coughed. "Crystal."

"Excellent."

As soon as they left the house, Clyde Harlaown was grinning as he walked side-by-side with his superior.

"Colonel, that was a pretty daring move you did."

"Enforcer, think of this as another lesson: you will find that some people won't be swayed with all the logic in the world. Those kinds of people can only be spoken to with the language of power."

"Of course, Colonel."

* * *

**Childhood**

* * *

_"I've been working full time to try and keep you from accidentally releasing your magic, boss,"_ the Device telepathically told the boy as he continued reading in the library - a physics textbook that specialized in aerodynamics and projectile motion. _"Maybe it's time we try and actually use it deliberately for once. Holding onto that much magic power tends to be detrimental to your magic system. I've been venting out some of your power periodically now."_

_"Oh,"_ the boy replied. _"So, we'll start later - same time, same place, Tom?"_

_"Sounds good."_

Harold James "Harry" Potter had gotten the reputation of being a quiet, bookish type all through his years in primary school, but beneath that exterior was quite the active child. If he wasn't tearing through high school-level books on math and physics, he was spending his free time on the football and rugby pitch.

All that math translated into him being the sneakiest and most accurate striker for his age. Even then, there were murmurs about the boy getting into an advanced sports program based on his uncanny ability to get the football to where he wanted nearly at will.

At the park, the sight of a nine-year old boy practicing his penalty kicks was a common sight - what people didn't notice was that it wasn't really a ball he was kicking.

"Ouroboros, to infinity."

The silvery-green magic circle of the Mid-Childa system came to life under him, the Barrier Jacket forming just as quickly.

"Whew," Harry said. "Ten months of school for this."

A smile toward Uncle Gil.

"Wouldn't trade it for the world."

_**"Dragonflight,"**_ the green orb intoned.

And there, in one of the Mid-Childa training facilities for young mages, Harry Potter and his Intelligent Device took their first flight.

It definitely wouldn't be their last.

* * *

"Heya, Uncle Vernon. Aunt Petunia... and Dudley," Harry called as he entered the door to the house.

"How was... vacation?" the woman asked, a bit of anxiety leaking into her voice.

"More than fine, Aunt Petunia," Harry answered, all smiles. "Best. Vacation. Ever. Duds! Grab the ball, let's head down to the pitch. I miss football already."

A relieved breath left Petunia Dursley as soon as both boys scampered out the door, her son carrying the football under his arm. Recently, Harry (any time they called him a 'freak', that scary man from a few years back would call or drop by) had been a lot happier, more active in school, and was even helping out Dudley with some of the trickier subjects her son was facing.

Come to think of it, that man came in just in time to make sure she and Vernon wouldn't influence Dudley's thinking, which was somehow a godsend to the Dursleys. Harry was... almost normal.

"Boxing? You're taking up boxing?"

His cousin puffed up his chest proudly before getting into a boxer's stance.

"That's all they'll let me learn so far," Dudley replied, "won't even let me hit the sandbag yet."

"You'll get there," Harry answered with a grin, "and GOOOOOAAAAAALLLLLL!"

The football sailed right and true to where he wanted it to go.

"One of these days, you have got to teach me how to do that," Dudley muttered.

"It's just a little math and physics," Harry said before going to the net and retrieving the football, unaware of his cousin's groan. _Why math? I hate math! Long division sucks!_

* * *

"This power - it was given to you for a reason, Harold."

Somehow Uncle Gil and his two assistants never got to call him Harry. It was always Harold - but at this point, he didn't mind. What he did mind, was when he worked with his Device, the resulting beam of light he had unleashed carved a trail of destruction for quite a long distance.

_Ouroboros, do you know this reason?_

_Nothing you need be... privy to right now, boss._

_Keeping secrets from me, now?_

_Nothing of the sort. Consider it equal parts hindsight and keeping you away from self-fulfilling prophecies, boss. If you must know, your Uncle Gil knows as well - I told him first - and that he agrees with my decision._

_When will I be ready to hear this reason, Tom?_

_Sooner than you think._

"Yes, Uncle Gil."

"I don't know the exact details of it, but I will do my best to prepare you for anything that may come your way. Now summon your Barrier Jacket and we shall begin."

As soon as Harry had been able to actiavte his Device, vacation months turned to weeks of rigorous training under his Uncle Gil and the two cat-eared young women who followed him roughly all the time.

"Your Device has several basic forms: Standby, Active, Sealing, and Shooting. Further upgrading would give you something extra, but let's not go into that right now."

* * *

"Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia, Dudley... I'm home!" Harry said as soon as he entered the house on Little Whinging.

"Harry," Aunt Petunia said, "you have a letter."

Wordlessly, he opened up the odd envelope, and immediately understood.

_We'd better go, boss. I'd rather not have them come to us here. Your aunt and uncle are already at their breaking point in trying to pretend you're just an ordinary boy, when in fact you are anything but._

_My aunt and uncle are trying their best. Even Dudley._

_Yes, and all of it will be wasted when they show themselves here. I will guide you, as I have once done this before._

_...Ouroboros, what do you mean by that?_

_It's going to be a long and annoying story, boss. I'll tell you when we get to the bus._

And that was when our boy received his letter from Hogwarts, where his life would change forever... at least a bit more after finding out... about a different sort of magic.

* * *

_**Year One**_

* * *

**Already Gone**

* * *

"If you're looking for Harry, he already left. Mentioned something about taking a bus and going to some place called Diagon Alley," Vernon Dursley said to a huge man crowding his doorway.

The man nodded, grunted and went on his way, while the Dursleys breathed a sigh of relief at the close call.

* * *

**Knight Bus**

* * *

"That'll be two sickles, please."

"Do you take pounds?" Harry asked.

"Er... you got your entrance letter, right?" the conductor asked. When Harry shook his head, the man continued. "Fine, we'll take you to Diagon Alley free of charge. Will take us about half an hour, so make yourself comfortable, mister..."

_**Whatever you do, do not say that you are Harry Potter, boss.**_

"...Graham. Harold Graham."

"All right, Mister Graham. Have a seat."

Harold "Graham" took a seat near the back and watched the scenery fly by, all the while carrying on a silent conversation with his Device about preparing for the Wizarding World.

* * *

**Ouroboros**

* * *

**_I'm not lying when I say that I was once a part of you. In a way, I still am, as my full functions as a Device can only activate under your control._**

_How is it that you know a lot about this world?_

**_Because I came from this world, too. Before I became what I am now, boss. I've done a lot of... really bad things. All in the name of... well, it's meaningless now. My dream has come true._**

_Which is?_

**_To be immortal._**

Harry thought about it and chuckled.

_Yes, you are immortal, Tom._

**_So what about your dream, boss?_**

_Finish school, settle down in Mid, maybe become an Enforcer or something... like Big Brother and Big Sister._

**_You know what, boss?_**

_What, Ouroboros?_

**_I'll be with you every step of the way._**

_Thanks._

* * *

**Diagon Alley**

* * *

"Ah, a muggleborn first year!" the innkeeper said. "We have the standard first-year package here."

"Thanks, sir!"

"Don't mention it, Harry. Come to think of it, you look a lot like The Boy Who Lived..."

Harry waved it off. "I get that a lot. Besides, my last name's Graham."

The boy laughed his way out of the inn and towards the Alley, checking the list of items required for first-year students in Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

* * *

"I'm afraid I can't give you a wand. You already have a... my word, an actual sentient conduit."

"I don't suppose I could just find any old stick and pretend it's my wand, sir," Harry replied. "Would that work?"

The old wandmaker nodded and went to his pile of rejects before fishing out a wand that looked every bit like the real thing but was nothing more than an oak branch.

"I do believe it just might do the trick. Fare you well, young Masters."

Harry shrugged and thanked old Ollivander before hurrying to the next stop.

* * *

"Fifty-galleon stipend for all muggleborn first-years here," the goblin said. "Ah. You must be that Graham boy."

"Yes, sir."

A glint in the goblin's eye threw little Harry a bit off balance. "Do you want to see what's in your vault, sir?"

"Not this time, sir. I think the stipend will be enough for now."

"As you wish."

"Thanks, and may you live long and prosper," Harry said, raising his hand to the old goblin and parting his middle and ring fingers in a passable imitation of the Vulcan salute.

"Likewise, young one."

* * *

"I think I like this owl."

"You can have it for half-price, she's pretty ornery most of the time - seems to have taken a liking to ya, kid."

"Thank you, sir."

The white owl was hooting at him and giving him odd looks as he walked down the Alley, and Harry still didn't have a name for her.

* * *

_Can I wear my Barrier Jacket under these robes, Tom?_

**_No, but I can reinforce them a little. Still doesn't beat a fully-manifested Barrier Jacket, though._**

_Darn._

**_Anyway, you're done shopping here. Let's go home and say our goodbyes to your aunt and uncle._**

* * *

**Farewells**

* * *

"Thanks for keeping up with me all these years," Harry said. "Between school years I'll be with Uncle Gil."

Dudley was crying manly tears at this.

"Hey, I'll be showing up every now and then, Duds. Now... promise me you'll win the under-12 amateur boxing cup, okay?"

"Okay, Harry. I'll win it for ya!"

"That's the spirit! Anyway, Uncle Vernon... Aunt Petunia... thank you. For sticking with me... in spite of everything."

That broke the dam - and for the first time, the Dursleys didn't see a freak, they just saw a boy they found out tried his hardest to be a part of the family, and now he was going away.

* * *

**The Train**

* * *

He looked left, and right.

Left, and right again.

As soon as the group of redheads left the platform (after seeing to their sons actually phase through the stone wall), he moved in.

Not bothering to waste time gawking, he quickly made his way to the train and began the hunt for a spot to sit in.

Finding a vacant compartment wasn't that hard, and pretty soon Harry had opened the bag and was enjoying a meal - watching the scenery go by.

* * *

"...Hedwig," Harry intoned, and his owl seemed to perk up at the name. "You like it, girl? Okay then, I guess I'll name you Hedwig."

The owl nibbled his outstretched hand in approval.

* * *

**Sorting**

* * *

"Graham, Harold!"

The unassuming boy edged toward the chair where the hat went over his head.

Upon making contact, the hat found the boy an anomaly. _You have the traits of all four Houses within you, _it said._ The question now becomes what will you decide upon?_

Harry grinned inwardly. _I learned more from playing with my friends and reading in the library more than I did in the classroom._

_Thus, that takes Ravenclaw out of the picture. You also have cunning and courage in roughly equal amounts._

_Yes, but as my Uncle Gil likes to say, too much of the former makes you a schemer and a coward, too much of the latter makes you a foolhardy idiot._

The hat laughed out loudly.

_You have the knack for cutting into the heart of the matter, Harry Potter. I like you._

_Thanks. So by the process of elimination, I should be in..._

**"HUFFLEPUFF!"**

The boy took his place uneventfully among his fellows.

Several hours later...

"Potter, Harry!"

No answer.

"That's funny, I'm sure he's here... oh, wait a second."

Minerva McGonagall checked the list of enrollees and found in a footnote that the Boy Who Lived "answers to the alias 'Harold Graham'".

She gave a small grin as she shrugged and let the Sorting continue. _How Slytherin of him. I wonder how Pomona will handle this one?_

* * *

**Resemblance**

* * *

Severus Snape had a small problem.

It wasn't that the Boy Who Lived was an attention-seeking prat; far from it, in fact. The boy (who went by Graham, a very Slytherin move on his part, thought the Potions professor), while he was an industrious, helpful and slightly OCD Potions student, seemed to stare at him a bit more intently than usual during idle moments.

He only found out why during the Halloween feast.

"Professor Snape, if you don't mind, I'd like you to do me a miniscule favor," Harry said as he walked up to the professors' table.

"I hope this has nothing to do with your grades, as I do not favor any student above another," the professor answered.

"No, sir. Could you please say this out loud?" he asked, handing over a sheet of paper.

_It's not a spell. Probably some lines from a play or book,_ Snape thought. _But this sounds nothing like some Muggle literature I've read. It's not that big a deal anyway, and the child doesn't seem to imply malice._

"Very well, Mister Graham," the professor said after awhile, and then he cleared his throat. "'I wanted this to be professional, efficient, adult, cooperative. Not a lot to ask. Alas, your Mr. Takagi did not see it that way... so he won't be joining us for the rest of his life.'"

It need not be said that Harry's eyes were shining brightly as soon as the professor spoke - he took up a formal position and bowed deeply.

"Thank you, Professor."

"You're welcome," a slightly bewildered Snape replied as the boy went back to his table to the cheers of his fellow first-year 'Puffs, some of the Gryffindors for the rather large set of brass balls this first-year Hufflepuff had, and a smattering of Muggleborns throughout because they knew where that Graham kid got those words from.

* * *

**Troll**

* * *

Midway through the Halloween feast, Harry felt something was off.

_**MDL flag on sector 5. A bathroom. Hostile non-human entity detected.**_

_Crap,_ Harry muttered to himself. "May I be excused?" he asked. "Pumpkin juice went straight to the bladder."

Ignoring his fellow Hufflepuffs whose faces were beginning to turn a contorted green, Harry quickly darted to where the hostile presence was.

Even before he could get there, he heard girlish screams echoing in the halls, and decided to throw discretion out the window. There were lives to be saved.

"Ouroboros, to infinity!" he yelled, and in a flash his Barrier Jacket was up and his Device was in full fighting form. "Bombardment Mode!"

_**"Acknowledged. Form Change: Bombardment,"**_ Ouroboros responded as Harry turned the corner into a hallway bathroom. As he followed the trail of destruction to see a huge green thing beginning to batter down the bathroom stalls, he didn't hesitate. There were no more shrieks to be heard, and bracing for the worst, Harry took aim at the creature's head and fired.

_**"Phase Bolt,"**_ the staff intoned as a silvery-green ball of energy fired outward, catching the thing on the back of its head.

That was when he was noticed, the thing turning around and charging at him swinging - but Harry was ready. As he pointed the business end of Ouroboros towards the charging green monstrosity, the green jewel adorning the top of the serpentine silver staff began to pulse with light.

"Now!" Harry yelled. "Arc Smash!"

_**"Arc Smash,"**_ Ouroboros intoned as a large beam of silver light burst from the Device, crashing into the creature and launching whoever or whatever it was through the bathroom space, right through the walls and into the sky.

Back in the classroom, everyone was in awe at the impromptu fireworks display.

Thankfully, the girl in the bathroom - Granger something-or-other was her name - appeared to have passed out from fear of the rampaging thing.

* * *

**Learn To Fly**

* * *

"You must have a knack for flying, young man," Madam Hooch said as she saw the young Graham kid wordlessly pick up the Cleansweep.

"It's always been a dream of mine to fly, Ma'am," the boy politely explained before getting onto the broom as per Madam Hooch's instructions and willing the old broom to a few spins around the sky.

**_Danger,_** he heard Ouroboros whisper to him, and he veered sharply in the air to avoid a strange glass ball flying upward. With a smooth movement, he caught the strange artifact and made his way back to the ground.

"That was awesome," whispered Hannah, one of Harry's fellow 'Puffs.

It didn't take long before Harry was called by his head of House Pomona Sprout and introduced to Cedric Diggory as a possible reserve Seeker.

* * *

**Christmas**

* * *

Deep under the covers of his ridiculously comfortable and ridiculously antique four-poster, Harry Potter (going by the alias "Harold Graham" in Hogwarts) pretended to sleep, his Device active and his Barrier Jacket deployed, ready to spring into action at any moment the strange presence in his dorm room made any suspicious moves.

But there was none, and when Harry peeked out from under the blankets, he saw a very odd cloak.

Looking left and right to see that no one would notice, he snatched it and quickly stashed it in his belongings, where it was quickly and promptly forgotten.

* * *

**Battle**

* * *

He had been tagged with a detention unjustly, but he didn't mind it.

It was during the Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch game right after the game ended - one of the Lions' brooms began to spiral out of control. Flouting the school rules, he grabbed the broom of an older Slytherin, took to the sky, and barely snatched the hapless young man from what would be a gruesome fall.

And when trouble happens, it happens in bunches.

Ouroboros had alerted him as soon as he stepped into the forest - a life was in danger, and he had to go and do something.

"To infinity," Harry whispered as soon as he was out of eyeshot, and with a small flash, he was ready for battle.

The Multi-Dimensional Lock had brought him to where a cloaked and hooded man was about to plunge a dagger into what looked like a horse...

...and with a wordless Phase Bolt, the weapon was knocked out of the perpetrator's hands.

The shadowed presence turned to face him, his face obscured by the cloak, and then hissed. "Harry... Potter..." the slithering voice began.

"My primary school teacher called me Mr. Potter. My friends call me Harry, and you're neither, shithead," Harry quoted, the bravado of that guy from the movies entering his voice despite him being scared out of his wits right now.

"How foolishly brave," the man replied, "you should have been in Gryffindor, like your equally-foolish parents..."

Harry's eyes narrowed, but he would not give the man a chance to see him angry. Besides, his best shot required the man to get in close. Unfortunately, the shadowed man took this opportunity to cast a host of spells at the boy.

_**"MOVE!"**_ Ouroboros yelled, and Harry took immediate evasive action, going to the side with a simple Flash Move, and readying another Phase Bolt.

_I'm not going to last long enough to cast an Arc Smash in his face, _Harry told his Device as he continued dodging spell fire.

_**Use Action Mode.**_

Harry grinned as he backpedaled from a spell that would have blown him up had he been too close.

Another dive away from a cutting spell, and Harry had his Device change form into something meaner than a serpentine staff.

Now was his chance to take the guy out before he could get at the downed animal, so Harry took the gambit and charged in, Device at the ready.

Another one of those explosive spells sailed into him, and the shadowy man hissed his triumph... only for it to sail through the boy.

Click.

One burst of fire from his Device at near point-blank range launched Harry's opponent an impressive distance away, the cone-shaped spray of smaller Phase Bolts most appropriate for the shape his Device now took - a shotgun pistol.

"Now I have a shotgun," Harry said. "Ho-ho-ho." He then quickly made his way to the downed horse, only for it to slowly make its way back up and give him a nod of thanks with its horned head before bounding further into the forest.

As a gob-smacked Harry gazed at the retreating unicorn, Hagrid the gamekeeper strode up to him with a frightened Draco Malfoy quickly following behind.

"What's the big deal with you running off again?" he asked. "If I wasn't so nice to you I'd double or triple your detentions!"

"There was a... unicorn," Harry explained. "Someone was attacking it."

"What is this?" Draco's voice asked in consternation some distance away, and as Harry and the gamekeeper went to see, they gasped.

Their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor - Quirinus Quirell - was lying dead on the forest floor, looking like a bad case of half-done spontaneous human combustion. Nearly his whole midsection appeared to have been burned or blasted off, and Malfoy barely held onto his lunch (or dinner, as the case may be) at the sight.

It was a somber trio that returned to the castle grounds in a short while, the gamekeeper leading both boys to where they could easily return to their dormitories before reporting the death to the Headmaster and the other faculty members.

* * *

**Homeward**

* * *

The rest of the school year was uneventful for Harry, as his school days were spent studying with classmates, Seeker training under the Hufflepuff Quidditch Captain, and putting together an informal game of football with fellow Muggleborns whenever he could.

All in all, it was a rather boring first year for Harry, who, thanks to his Uncle Gil insisting on excellence in all fields, barely lost to a certain Hermione Granger for best marks of their year level.

As he received the award (and 50 points to Hufflepuff for the distinction), realization dawned onto him - this was the girl he had saved back in Halloween.

Shrugging his shoulders after the ceremony, Harry smiled at the thought of continuing his education here in a few months; he also grinned at the thought of spending some time with his Uncle Gil, big brother Clyde, big sister Lindy, and Uncle Gil's two familiars.

So it was with a smile so wide that Harold "Harry" Graham waved goodbye to his classmates at the train station, looking for and finding his Uncle Gil's two familiars waiting for him.

"Big sis Aria! Big sis Lotte!" he shouted, waving at them.

"Harry! So how was magic school?" they asked, embracing him as soon as they could.

"Long story," Harry answered. "Can I spend the weekend at my aunt and uncle's before going with you guys back to Mid?"

"Of course, Harry," they said. "Come on, your Uncle Gil's waiting in the car." 

* * *

**Note:** It's highly plausible that Harry got to watch a certain action film due to the Dursleys renting and/or purchasing said action film via VHS.


	2. Year Two and Year Three

**disclaimer:** none of this is mine.

* * *

_**Ouroboros**_

**A Harry Potter and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha crossover**

* * *

_**Year Two**_

* * *

**Wards**

* * *

A few nights after arriving home from school, Ouroboros uploaded himself to the warding scheme on Privet Drive, strengthening and fortifying it.

Of particular note is when the wards threw off a small intruder, most likely a gnome, house elf, or something like that.

Harry ignored it and continued working on his homework.

* * *

**Impulse**

* * *

Harry's first two weeks of vacation were otherwise uneventful; watching Dudley win the under-12 boxing tournament and his aunt and uncle gradually warming up to him again were the only highlights he could mark down.

True to form, his Uncle Gil dropped by and picked up Harry two weeks into his vacation. Back in Mid-Childa, Harold worked fervently into controlling the intricacies of his Device, to avoid a repeat of what happened last year, where a nonlethal shot had apparently caused a Hogwarts professor to spontaneously combust.

* * *

**Barricaded**

* * *

Upon Harry's return, he took the last few days before school term started off, playing with Dudley, pick-up games of football with his neighbors, and generally being a child. Heading over to Diagon Alley with Uncle Gil in the most discreet of manners helped out, too... but when the time came to enter the platform to Hogwarts, he found that something was in the way.

One Multi-Dimensional Lock spell later, and Harry with his Device found out that it was an enchanted bench. Throwing Ouroboros into the gap and commanding him to Phase Bolt the thing did the trick.

Thus, Harry found himself literally squeezed into a compartment with three of the Chasers from Gryffindor's Quidditch team - who were all fawning over him like he was the cutest thing ever, it really creeped him out while Ouroboros was chuckling at him.

It didn't help that every time the train hit a slight curve, his head would end up bouncing off either one girl's bosom or the other, to the girls' delight.

_"You'll appreciate this in a few years, Boss,"_ his Device said between laughs, and Harry thought that ending up not catching the train might have been a bit better than this.

* * *

**Inconsistent**

* * *

The moment Harold stepped into the Defense classroom, his sense of danger started to activate.

However, it quickly subsided as he found out that the teacher was - compared to the books he'd written - horribly incompetent and egotistical.

He thus took it upon himself to begin reading through the books and mark down every inconsistency he could find, to present it to the Headmaster before the Christmas holidays.

* * *

**Genre Savvy**

* * *

To a certain Severus Snape, the boy who called himself "Harold Graham" was proving to be an unexpected surprise - he may have looked like James Potter, but he had Lily Potter's attitude towards knowledge. He was performing very well in all subjects, usually a few points ahead or behind that Granger girl.

So when the time came that Harold asked him about how he was doing in the Halloween feast, the Potions professor smirked at him and said, "keep your level of work up; otherwise I may have to carve your heart out with a spoon".

The look on his face as understanding dawned on him was something worth sitting next to all those Muggles for, but he wouldn't tell anyone that.

Sadly, a few moments later, Filch would find his cat conveniently stoned, with ominous writing next to it.

"You'll be next, Mudbloods!" Draco Malfoy gloated, and as he tried to make his villainous retreat, a random foot sticking out tripped him and sent him sprawling into a puddle of water.

Nobody noticed Harold Graham shrugging as he returned to the common room with his fellow Hufflepuffs, his mind on that screeching voice he heard shortly after Snape did his best Sheriff of Nottingham impression.

* * *

**Flight**

* * *

As Cedric Diggory's understudy, Harold was quickly showed the ropes about Quidditch. He proved to be a quick study, as when Cedric was the next victim petrified, it was Harry who would be the substitute for the match against Gryffindor, to the boy's despair.

Oddly enough, he could hear that screeching voice moments before Cedric was petrified.

The opposing team's Seeker was a Muggleborn named Sally-Anne Perks - and she was a prodigious flier, managing to outpace Harold around corners and with multiple projectiles heading their way.

Further complicating matters was that a Bludger seemed to be enchanted to always go after him - so he put it to his advantage and used it to play chicken with the Gryffindor beaters - the infamous Weasley twins.

He'd asked his teammates to score as much goals as they could, as with a Bludger after him, there'd be little chance for him to snag the Snitch.

Twenty exhausting minutes later, Harry was proven correct - Sally-Anne got the Snitch, but the Badgers still won 310-260.

Of particular note is the fact that when the match ended, each of the Gryffindor chasers grabbed Harry and put him in what they called a "sportsmanship hug".

Everyone had a laugh at the rapidly reddening Harry's expense, as he finally began to understand what was going on.

* * *

**A Visitor in the Night**

* * *

A flash of light and suddenly what appeared to be a House Elf was flung from the door of the second year boys' dorm in Hufflepuff.

A very angry Harold Graham was brandishing his wand at the doorway and his assailant, which had long since vanished.

* * *

**Fried Chicken**

* * *

Thanks to that outburst, Harry got himself a detention - working with the groundskeeper Hagrid.

He heard a spiel from the man about how his parents would have been mortified at his being in Hufflepuff, as the Potters were Gryffindors through and through, but at least it would be better than Slytherin...

"...and how would 'not being in Slytherin' be better?" Harry asked nonchalantly.

"Lot of 'em ended up as Dark Wizards," Hagrid explained.

"What is Dark wizardry anyway? The definition seems to be a bit too arbitrary for my taste," Harry continued, the side of him that was brought up with discussing politics with Uncle Gil seeping out.

"It's Dark if... oh, just ask Professor Dumbledore about it. He'd know."

"Yes, I plan to do just that, sir," Harry replied. "Oh, look, another dead rooster. Someone apparently misses fried chicken."

Harry made it to the dead bird first. "Manual strangulation. There are better ways to kill a bird, but why this one?"

Hagrid groaned. "Third one killed this week. At this rate I might have to keep my birds back at Hogsmeade."

"How about I track down your... cereal killer, sir?"

Hagrid chuckled. "Please do. I'll be a bit busy looking after the others here."

* * *

**Toucan, Son of Sam** (PART OF YOUR NUTRITIOUS BREAKFAST!)

* * *

Quidditch was cancelled.

Harry was thankful, as he did not want to play a game so high-risk as that without letting out his flying prowess or his experience with flight. He'd gone by being a prodigy for so long, anyway.

And as the Christmas holidays neared, Harry completed his big list of "inconsistencies" to give to Dumbledore. Hopefully they'd have someone halfway competent for the last few months of the term.

He was, sadly, nowhere near his objective: to find the cereal killer responsible for slaying Hagrid's roosters.

What he did find, was that the spiders usually camped out in the nooks and crannies of the Divination tower were high-tailing it.

As he picked one up, he used Ouroboros to start a mental link to it.

_I do not mean you harm, little one._

_**Yet you speak the abomination's tongue.**_

_That may be, but as of right now, I have no reason to harm you. Answer me this, why are you and your ilk leaving?_

_**Aragog offers sanctuary from that abomination. It wakes and roams the halls, seeking food... someone has awakened it.**_

_An abomination did this. Spiders dislike it, roosters are its weakness... what do these have in common?_

He cut the link, and let the spider go, thinking all the while.

* * *

**Tag Team**

* * *

He found his rival in the library.

"Granger."

"Graham."

"I'm in a bit of a bind. I need some help."

"You? Help? I find that hard to believe."

Harold shrugged. "It's not academic, if that's what you're worried about. What's something that spiders hate, and is weak against a rooster?"

Hermione took a bit of a minute to think, then scrambled to the third-year section.

What followed was a wild melee that started near the entrance, crashed through two empty classrooms and three halls later until Hermione managed to stroke the spine of the Monster Book of Monsters.

"Only in Hogwarts would I meet a book I'd loathe," she muttered angrily as she dusted herself off. And as she picked up the book and leafed through its pages, she pointed to a huge, serpentine creature. "That's your guy. Basilisk."

"Thanks," Harold said, "this means we'll be serving our detentions together."

The Gryffindor girl fainted as soon as she saw the trail of destruction their rampaging book wrought.

* * *

**Merry Christmas and Yippie-ki-yay!**

* * *

True to form, Dumbledore sent Lockhart packing upon receiving the annotated version of his books. He decided on sending in an Auror named Emmeline Vance to finish the year teaching Defense.

Too bad the detention for that much damage to property lasted through the Christmas holidays, but at least Harold now knew what to do. He even had a conspirator in Hermione to find this basilisk and maybe return it to a better habitat, like that dragon.

When he called Uncle Gil about this, the TSAB official brooked no opposition and got himself on the first trip to Earth, bringing a creature containment team with him. One dog-and-pony show later, Gil used Blue Streak to interface with the school's wards, tracking the basilisk to a chamber accessible via a sink in the women's bathroom.

They volunteered to exorcise the ghost, but Myrtle just said she'd rather pass on when she'd finished her education.

One rather anticlimactic battle later, the basilisk was being hauled off by the Bureau and onto a planet suited for its unique physiology.

Of particular notice was a certain Weasley girl who was hit full-force with a Stinger Shot, knocking a diary out of her hands and into an Enforcer's.

The diary was brought to a certain Dr. Marion Radom in the TSAB research halls, and met a rather violent and explosive end as attempts to reprogram it failed. While it managed to enchant a low-level employee, liberal use of TSAB weaponry managed to free the employee. What followed was the first use of the L'arc-en-ciel class Matter Annihilation Beam on an enchanted object.

* * *

**All's Well**

* * *

The rest of the school year was uneventful. Miss Vance was a surprisingly skilled teacher, Harold got his grades up to his Uncle Gil's usual high standards, and it was yet another photo finish with him and that Granger girl.

Strangely, instead of being standoffish, the Graham boy offered his fist to the best student of the year, who answered back with a fist bump of her own.

Unfortunately, the recovery from Diggory's petrifaction would take the good part of the year, so Cedric named his understudy the Seeker for next year's Quidditch matches. Harry groaned at this.

Still, it was two years out of seven completed, and Harry couldn't wait to get home and tell his two families about how much fun he'd been having. He heard Dudley was getting to be quite the athlete, and he needed to see it for himself.

Plus, the sooner he'd get out of the Hogwarts express and the wandering hands of those Gryffindor Chasers (all three of them), the better.

* * *

_**Year Three**_

* * *

**Strike Arts?**

* * *

Harry Potter watched the under-15 boxing tournament finals with his aunt and uncle, and witnessed his cousin Dudley actually win - while way behind on points - with an epic knockout. The feat would be replicated on the world stage, but this time, a world title was on the line, but that's not relevant in this story.

As they left, Harry caught a glimpse of Admiral Graham, and waved. The admiral waved back. What was odd was that the Dursleys also saw him and waved as well.

The mystery of that remained on Harry's mind as they all returned home.

* * *

**To battle...**

* * *

Harry already knew most of Ouroboros' capabilities. As such, it was up to him to improve himself that he might not rely on his Device all the damn time. He went to Admiral Graham with this, and the TSAB official wholeheartedly agreed, getting his familiars to teach him a few Strike Arts for self-defense during the short time he'd spend with them.

Naturally, they didn't begrudge him spending most of his summer with his aunt, uncle and cousin, as they finally started treating Harry like a member of the family.

"Didn't know Strike Arts were that difficult," Harry said as he pulled himself from the ground and into another stance. "One more."

Aria and Lotte admired his tenacity, and thanks to that his aptitude for battle grew even more.

"Might I ask why you wish to learn hand-to-hand combat?" Graham had asked. "Is it because of your cousin?"

Harry shook his head. "I want to be able to defend myself even without a Device."

Graham nodded. "Know that this branch of fighting is Ancient Belkan in origin, and thus it may seem incongruous with your Device. Shall you continue?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied, green eyes glowing with conviction.

It was with these very same eyes that he glared at his Aunt Marge.

Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and even Dudley were also glaring.

The only odd thing that happened after that was Aunt Marge tripping on one of the cobblestones and getting a chip knocked off one of her front teeth.

* * *

**Dark Tidings**

* * *

During the year's turn to head to Diagon Alley, it was the Admiral who accompanied Harry. The reason why would become apparent soon - in the Alley, headlines everywhere blared the escape of infamous criminal Sirius Black.

The visit itself didn't raise up a fuss, except for the part where Harry insisted on grabbing the Monster Book of Monsters firsthand and stroking its spine - he wasn't going to allow a repeat of last year's incident with that Granger girl.

* * *

**Raw Power**

* * *

"The Ministry's going to send Dementors," Cedric Diggory said as he chatted with Harry as they waited for the initial rush of passengers to subside, and tapped his cane while they waited a little longer. "Wish I was spry enough to keep on as a Prefect, but that's life."

"Well, the mandrake treatments will be complete around Christmas, so you can go back to Prefecting and Seeking and doing all those other Sixth Year things you do, Mr. Diggory," Harry observed. "After you?"

He assisted the injured Seeker in getting his things into the train, and was about to move to where his bags were being looked after by a fellow Hufflepuff when-

POWER.

A gigantic surge of power burst from the civilian side of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters - and it felt familiar.

_Admiral!_ Harry thought, and when he ran out into King's Cross, there was nothing he could see - only the smell of ozone and stray bursts of magic here and there.

Harry was about to try and see what was going on when the train signaled its departure - he quickly got onto the Express before he'd be left behind...

...and he ended up in the Gryffindor Chasers' compartment. **Again.**

By the time he emerged from it, even Hedwig was tittering at his condition.

Cedric quickly saw his Seeker and slowed down, catching up with him.

"Gryffindor Chasers?" he asked, and Harry nodded.

"Handkerchief?" he asked again, and Harry gratefully took the offered piece of cloth, wiping the lip balm from his face before anyone else could see and put two plus two together.

* * *

**New Introductions**

* * *

Harry mostly spent the opening speech and sorting in a daze, maybe due to the fact that a lot of his classmates were in a bit of a funk due to the Dementors passing by.

He would later learn from the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor that he had conveniently avoided the Dementors' impromptu inspection due to being squeezed in a compartment with the Gryffindor chasers, and their joy as they fawned over Harry kept the creatures away.

Who knew.

His green eyes went back into focus as Headmaster Dumbledore began introducing the new teachers.

"...due to Bathsheda Babbling taking an annual sabbatical to Dun Scaith Castle to conduct her research project on Ancient Runes, she has appointed her understudy to take over for this school year: please meet Penthesilea Pennyworth, your new professor in Study of Ancient Runes, and also assisting Madam Pomfrey in the Infirmary..."

Harry couldn't hear the Headmaster due to the hooting and hollering from nearly the entire male student body, everyone from fourth year onward as well as a few of the younger ones. He could make out his acquaintances from Gryffindor and his fellow year-mates in Hufflepuff reduced to dreamlike staring at their new professor.

And why not? He could see that Professor Pennyworth was really, really beautiful.

And her welcome speech revealed that she also had a husky, confident voice that reduced the male student body to sighing like lovestruck girls.

That was when her red eyes met his.

It was one of the moments where Harry Potter (Graham) felt that he was completely exposed, defenseless, and at the professor's mercy, much like a frog pinned to a dissection table.

After what felt like an eternity, the moment passed by, and Harry was once again looking at the new professor thanking the headmaster for the opportunity, and that she was looking forward to this year, hoping to return if she did a good enough job.

_**Did you see that? **_Tom whispered to him.

A bead of cold sweat ran down Harry's brow as he gave his Device the mental affirmative.

* * *

**Avoiding Overwork**

* * *

Shortly after the start of term party, Harry's head of House gathered the third years for a meeting.

"...since next year will be the halfway point between your first and last years in Hogwarts, it is my duty as your head of House to inform you that for the first few weeks, your academic schedule will be duly modified while you select the electives that will ultimately decide your future. But worry not - as there will be a lot of help available you can use to make the best possible decision. Each House has their own way of doing this, and OUR way is for you to consult your teachers and upperclassmen."

Soon after the meeting, Harry walked over to a corner of their house's Common Room, where Cedric Diggory was reading through applications.

"Well, there's one thing that doesn't change," he muttered, turning when he heard Harry enter. "Ah, Graham. Good to see you. Are you here to ask for some help about what courses to study?"

Harry shrugged.

"Might as well play to my strengths," he replied, pointing towards several subjects. "Arithmancy, Muggle Studies, and Ancient Runes."

The Prefect sniffed disdainfully. "I see even YOU are not immune to Professor Pennyworth's charms," he said with a knowing grin.

The wriggling feeling in Harry's gut returned as he recalled the otherworldly beauty, ethereal voice, and extremely dangerous red eyes.

"I asked around and they said Divination was not worth investing time in," Harry replied.

"Dementors getting to you, Harry?" Cedric asked. "You look like you've been seeing ghosts as of late."

The third-year Hufflepuff just shook his head. "Yes... maybe it's the Dementors."

"I suggest you head over to Professor Lupin and let him check it out."

The breath Harry didn't know he was holding let itself out and his shoulders went slack.

"You're right, Mr. Diggory. I'm going to him after this."

As he walked away from the Prefect, Harry's mind was made up.

**_You're going to try and expose the Ancient Runes professor, won't you?_**

_I don't even know if I should. If I can, _Harry added,_ or if I can survive it._

**_Why not go and ask her directly?_**

_Are you off your rocker?_

**_You have me. And the protections Hogwarts has around it will not allow a professor to harm her student._**

Harry just sighed.

_Hope you're right, Tom... there's just something about Professor Pennyworth that feels wrong. Like the shadows she makes are... darker._

**_I wouldn't know. But let's play this one safe, right?_**

To Harry's relief, no other incidents of the sort happened during his Ancient Runes classes... maybe it was because he had Ouroboros interface with his robes as a sort-of Barrier Jacket, and that let him keep a low profile.

* * *

**Defense and Offense**

* * *

The Defense Professor for this year was a decent fellow named Remus Lupin. Because of that, Harry found that Defense was actually a very engaging class: it had a lot of overlap with Hagrid's own.

Speaking of Hagrid, he also started teaching: Care of Magical Creatures - given Harry's acquaintance with the gamekeeper / professor, the class went without a hitch.

Ouroboros translating animal thought to speech and vice versa helped greatly, especially when that idiot Malfoy decided to make a monkey of himself in front of a prideful hippogriff.

Sure enough, Harry put himself in the spotlight again when he stopped Malfoy from getting injured with a gesture and a very Oriental bow to the beast. After whispering something while reassuring it with a few rubs along its feathered head, he nodded at the one named Buckbeak, and all was okay.

Except what Harry actually said was that he promised he'd make Malfoy bow to Buckbeak, but he asked the hippogriff for some time before he could make that happen.

* * *

**Trouble (Power Rangers, not Coldplay)**

* * *

The year continued to go uneventfully, even with the Dementors around patrolling for an apparent escaped criminal.

"The Prisoner of Azkaban, Sirius Black!" Harry heard Ronald Weasley saying as stories were traded around the holiday table.

"I don't know, sounds a lot like the Count of Monte Cristo to me," Harry demurred, and Hermione Granger shrugged. Some of the other students at the table asked about the fictional Count, and Harry obliged by giving them a synopsis of the story as the food arrived.

As another helping of holiday food was passed around, Harry suddenly felt a disturbance in the Force... and was quickly proven correct as the three Gryffindor Chasers took up seats beside him.

What followed was perhaps the most awkward holiday dinner Harry Potter ever had.

Even the back-to-Seeking-form Cedric had to appreciate the way those three... ate, and Harry's face had long since gone red, wishing he'd vanish from the table entirely and head back to the Common Room.

Thankfully, Harry was summoned to the Headmaster's Office after the meal. On the way, he reminded himself to pack extra handkerchiefs - all that lip balm on his face was starting to get annoying.

When he got there, he got the second shock of the school year, as Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was speaking with Admiral Virgil Graham.

"There's been an outbreak of the plague in the outskirts of Hogsmeade," Graham said smoothly. "We've been rounding up the rats and mice and either immunizing or neutralizing them. Do you have any students with pet rats or mice?"

"Only one," Dumbledore said. "Ronald Weasley, from Gryffindor."

"Please have him bring his pet to us," the admiral replied. "The plague is a more virulent strain than the one you had a few centuries ago."

"Of course, of course. Harry," the headmaster said. "I am sure you know Mr. Potter, or Mr. Graham, as he calls himself."

"Yes," the admiral said. "I had him take up my name to protect himself from the publicity."

"Very thoughtful of you."

"Thank you, Headmaster Dumbledore. Harry, I came here to drop off a few gifts. Here is one."

Graham gave Harry a brand-new Firebolt and a wand holster, and the thirteen-year-old's expression lit up.

"Thank you, sir."

"You are most welcome, Harry. I am sure your friends are waiting for you."

"By your leave, Headmaster. Mr. Graham," Harry said, and off he went downstairs, thinking, why would the Admiral do such a thing...?

He was already sandwiched between the Gryffindor chasers when the thought of asking Admiral Graham about the first day of classes and that big burst of magic returned to him. What happened was that his sudden Eureka moment was spoiled as he lost his balance and went headfirst into Katie Bell's chest, earning a lot of giggling, laughter, and several mutterings of "lucky bastard" from the Gryffindor table.

* * *

**For Your Protection**

* * *

After Harry had a run-in with the Dementors while planning Malfoy's comeuppance, he was called by Professor Lupin for some remedial Defense classes.

"You need to learn a spell that will protect you from those beings," he explained, and Harry agreed. The dementors seemed to move closer to him during their patrols around the castle, and he was just about to tell the headmaster about it.

"Headmaster Dumbledore asked you to teach me, did he not?" Harry asked, and Lupin nodded. "It's not everyday that one gets to teach the son of his friends."

Lupin's face grew pained, and Harry gave a sagely nod as if that solved a puzzle in his mind.

"What spell are we talking about?"

Remus Lupin pointed his wand and made the incantations.

"Expecto Patronum!" he bellowed, and a white wolf appeared.

Harry let out a low whistle.

"Wicked," he said, awe in his voice. "How do I do it?"

Thus began a series of classes where he was taught to harness the good memories to help him cast the spell better. Unfortunately, when he finally got it...

* * *

**Property Damage**

* * *

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Harry yelled out loud, noticing that as he cast the spell, Ouroboros intervened, and that the entire process was beginning to drain his Linker Core of energy at a heretofore-unprecedented rate.

**"EXPECTO PATRONUM,"** Ouroboros intoned as the spell finished...

...and the vacant classroom collapsed as after a massive surge of magical energy, a large white streak flew out of the wreckage and hovered right out the window.

When Remus Lupin opened his eyes after shielding himself from the blast, he could not believe what he saw.

"What in Merlin's name...?"

* * *

Harry could only look at the creature he cast in awe, as most of his Strike Arts training had taken place in Alzas, where his teachers Aria and Lotte had come into contact with the Ru Lushe tribe. Halfway through his training, the chieftain of the Ru Lushe had set him aside and asked him a rather difficult question.

"Why do you want to be strong?"

He took a few moments to think before answering.

"I want to be strong to protect the people important to me, sir."

The chieftain frowned.

"Is that wrong, sir?" Harry asked.

That was when the dragon descended, and though its eyes could not be seen, Harry felt like the dragon was sizing him up.

Then the dragon nodded, and flew away.

"Voltaire approves," the elder said before leaving a very confused Harry behind.

* * *

And Harry Potter looked in awe as a smaller, white copy of the dragon called Voltaire gazed down upon him, folding its arms and nodding.

Remus could hear the Dementors' receding shrieks even as he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Unfortunately that little stunt cost Harry a ton of house points due to the unused classroom being leveled.

* * *

**Future Possibilities**

* * *

While serving his detention, Harry was thinking about his Patronus Charm.

_My Patronus isn't the kind of spell I'll cast willy-nilly, _he told Ouroboros. _Even with you managing my Linker Core, ugh. It laid me out flat._

_**I'm sorry, Harry. I thought your Patronus would be something simple, like an animal from our world. I did not expect that it would take the shape of the Guardian Dragon of Alzas.**_

_I know, and did you hear what happened? The Dementors won't even want to come near this place any more!_

**_Indeed. It is as if your potential for unintentional mischief has gone up significantly._**

_But are there ways to conserve my power? I want to be able to summon a Patronus without exhausting myself._

**_There is a way... but we have to go to the Admiral and make our request there. I think we won't have a problem until the school year ends, though... let's put it on the back burner for now._**

_You got it, Tom._

* * *

**Hijinks Ensue**

* * *

Hours after the "exploding classroom incident" or what the student body called what happened, Harry found himself talking to a pair of notorious Gryffindors: the Weasley Twins.

Given that he didn't particularly LIKE the young Malfoy, and that he still had a promise on Buckbeak's account, he went to the infamous pranksters for some help.

"I need help; I need to take Draco Malfoy down a peg or two," he said, and the twins were immediately on deck.

"What do you need us to do?" they asked in unison.

* * *

**Consequences**

* * *

The two masked and disguised Gryffindors marveled at the sight: a large white dragon hovering behind Harold Graham as he pointed his wand at Draco Malfoy's throat.

"I didn't want to do this, but I'm calling in the debt you owe me," he said in a calm voice that chilled the Slytherin to the core. "If you want to tell your father, fine. I'm going to tell him I saved your hide from a hippogriff you thoughtlessly insulted, and this is me collecting that debt..."

Harry did his greatest Admiral Graham impression and hovered close to the shivering Third Year's face.

"...and that since this is a matter of personal and family honor, YOUR FATHER WILL TAKE MY SIDE."

Draco's eyes widened.

"It's a simple matter and will be done in no time," he said, motioning to his two disguised accomplices. "Open the garage door."

The Weasleys did, and within Hagrid's garage... was Buckbeak the hippogriff.

After shutting the door behind them, Draco Malfoy found himself being frog-marched to the beast, who was giving him a curious look.

"Now, to consider this matter settled," Harry said, before poking Draco in the small of his back, "kneel."

Draco knelt.

"Oh... and apologize, too. Buckbeak here can understand human speech. And he knows when you're being insincere."

* * *

**The Walk Back**

* * *

"See, that wasn't so tough," Harry said as they were returning to the castle. "Were you scared?"

Draco tried to keep a brave face but the fear was in his eyes.

"This is what your dad is trying to teach you," he said absently as they took to the trail. "Power isn't being able to boss people around, though there are some people who you can only get to with that. You gotta make people want to do what you want them to do. Help them help you. That's what Uncle Gil keeps telling me."

"When my father..."

"...when your father hears about this, I will beat you to him and give him an impartial accounting of everything that has happened," Harry replied, cutting off Draco's rant, "about how you did a really dumb thing about insulting a hippogriff to its face - a hippogriff that you didn't know at the time could understand human speech - even when our instructor specifically said not to."

"Are you taking that... that man's side?"

"Should that matter?"

"Of course!" Draco exclaimed. "He's no pureblood."

Harry let out a snort.

"Do you want me to let you in on a little secret, Draco Malfoy?" Harry Graham asked, before he leaned in to Draco Malfoy's ear and whispered a phrase.

Draco's eyes widened in surprise before he let out a laugh; he finally started understanding.

* * *

**Let's Face the Facts**

* * *

A few weeks later, Harry found himself being tasked to assist Cedric Diggory in his Prefect duties: namely, jotting down notes for Professor Sprout during a Monday faculty meeting.

"I see that Lupin is having his time of the month," Snape said, but whatever he was going to venture was cut short as Professor Pennyworth literally pinned him to the wall with a glare.

"Thank you, Severus," she said, "but I already talked to the Headmaster about it. If it is a small consolation to you, you can assist me when I start up the Dueling Club again."

Harry saw the very same fear he had in his Potions professor's eyes, and the very same bead of cold sweat on his brow. "Yes... yes indeed. Lockhart had the right idea, but couldn't manage a classroom full of children, let alone a dueling club."

Pennyworth nodded.

"To prepare for the start of the club, I am going to continue taking at least half an hour off each morning class. These children don't just need a sound magic and mind."

"Good luck trying to get them to exercise," Madam Pomfrey said, getting the point immediately.

"I have my ways," Pennyworth replied enigmatically.

* * *

Sure enough, the very next morning, everyone - mostly male, mostly fourth year and up, with a smattering of third years - were lined up to see their Ancient Runes professor in what Harry knew to be a spandex exercise outfit.

Her voice carried easily through the meadow outside the castle proper.

"Good to know a lot of you young folk have your priorities straight," she said. "What we'll do today is simple. Just jog for how far your body can take you. If you want a challenge, try to keep up with me. Upperclassmen, assist the lower years - the infirmary will be open this early should any of you be injured. We'll warm up for now, then proceed after that. How many of you know basic stretching exercises...?"

Sure enough, when Professor Pennyworth began stretching, **everyone** paid attention.

Even the newly-returned to Quidditch form Cedric had to appreciate the spectacle before them.

And the first day of exercise finished with no injuries, except for a lot of exhausted students, who found out that their Ancient Runes professor was a lot more fit than they expected.

* * *

**A Scarlet Clue**

* * *

Later that day, the "thing" Harry found out while taking notes for his head of house was Professor Pennyworth substituting in the Defense class due to Professor Lupin's "monthly thing", whatever that was.

That wasn't the strangest event of the day, as Pennyworth was well-versed in the dark arts and how to defend against them, making a particularly difficult lesson on containing Boggarts easy. The muggleborn contingent of their class even laughed out loud when she gave the nickname "Humphrey" to one of the Boggarts she used, much to the confusion of the purebloods...

...when the Boggart turned to her, it took the form of a man in blue with red eyes like hers, impaled by a red spear through the heart...

...and she sent Humphrey flying back into the cupboard with a Riddikulus charm so powerful that even the front row of students were pushed back.

* * *

Later that afternoon, in the Ancient Runes class, Professor Pennyworth gave no outward sign of being disturbed at her Boggart, and business carried on as usual. When she gave her assignment of depictions of rune sequences, few were able to answer... except Hermione Granger.

Professor Pennyworth's eyes momentarily softened the moment Granger said something about "Atton Gorra, the four runes used by Ireland's Child of Light, Coo Hullan".

_What's 'atton gorra'?_

**_It's spelled "a-t-h n-g-a-b-l-a", Harry. That Granger girl knows her history. _**

_Wait... don't you notice anything? __The mood around Professor Pennyworth lightened when Granger mentioned that Child of Light person._

_**It's also spelled "c-u c-h-u-l-a-i-n-n", Harry. I know, I know. Irish names are more confusing to spell than French. Speaking of Irish, don't you notice? Your Professor Pennyworth can hide it all she wants, but her Irish accent is definitely there. I dare say it, her accent is more pronounced than Professor McGonagall, or even Hagrid.**_

_You're right. She speaks very... musically._

_**Exactly. Why don't you call him Professor Hagrid, by the way?**_

_You and I both know he's a placeholder until someone better comes along or he grows into the position._

After sharing a laugh with his Device and making a mental note about their professor's odd behavior, Harry continued listening in to the class.

* * *

**More Proof**

* * *

The Weasleys were so amazed at how quickly Draco was put to heel, that soon after Harry's favor, they sought him out and presented him with an artifact they called the Marauder's Map.

"We're going to cash in on that favor of yours, Harry," they said. "The map's malfunctioning. Normally it puts out names, and actions, but when we decided to do some snooping around during the Dueling Club meeting, a small part around it gets scrambled - mind looking for the thing for us? We'd prefer to have someone on the inside for us. Oh - and you can also keep the map."

"Thanks," Harry said.

_So, you think it's our beautiful Ancient Runes professor, Tom?_

_**Sucker bet, **_he replied. _**Let me interface with the Map and see.**_

* * *

**Discovery**

* * *

It was very close to the end of the school year when Harry's plot was discovered.

Ironically, it happened during the last Dueling Club meeting: Harold Graham versus Bridget Herbert.

(As an aside, because Harry straightened out Draco Malfoy with the hippogriff matter, the two got into a much more intense battle in the Dueling Club. Draco lost, but still put up a hell of a fight.)

Bridget was the standout Slytherin duelist, much to Malfoy's chagrin - she was the one he was aiming to beat this year, and if all things would proceed as usual next year, he'd learn from his father while school was out and topple her from her perch as their house's brightest when the Dueling Club started again next year.

But during this meeting, Harry dueled like a different person entirely. After he learned what that Onishi kid called the 'hirazuki' stance, Harry started going on a winning streak, and the duel with Bridget was no exception. Despite limiting himself to the knockback jinx, disarming charm and banishing charm, Harry won easily.

One professor had her red eyes glowing as she saw the proceedings, and made a mental note to see what this Graham child could really do, when pushed to a corner.

Would he be the hero that she was searching for in this school these long years?

* * *

**Disruption**

* * *

"Your test results aren't the best," Pomona Sprout declared as Harry sat, dejected, in her office. "It's a good thing your midterms were close to perfect, otherwise this would drag you down."

He didn't respond.

Pomona sighed.

"Please tell me what's wrong," she said.

Dull green eyes looked back at her.

"Sir Clyde," he whispered. "He's dead."

"Oh my," the professor responded, wrapping up her student in a hug. "I am sorry."

The dam broke, and Harry started breaking down. "I never had the chance to thank him. For all he's done for me. Who's going to take care of Miss Lindy and baby Chrono? What will I do? ...what can I do?"

Professor Sprout just held the boy until he cried his eyes out.

"Oh, Harry," she said. "If you told me you were in mourning, I would have asked the Headmaster to give you some time off then take your exams again."

"...you can do that?"

"As your head of house? Sure." She ruffled his hair. "You don't know this, Harry, but you ARE one of Hufflepuff House's best students. And we're not going to jeopardize your future just because you weren't at your best when you took the year-end exams."

"Thank you," he said, smiling at the Professor despite the tears in his eyes and the sorrow on his face.

* * *

**Prelude**

* * *

"Poor boy," Pomona said during the faculty meeting. "A death in his family and he soldiered on his exams despite the fact. Graham's a good kid. It would be a shame if we didn't fix this."

Snape shrugged. He knew who Graham really was, but he was still a bit apprehensive about giving the boy special treatment... especially after he wiped the floor with his house's best duelist a week ago. "Do we have any precedent set for retaking exams due to bereavement?"

"Several," the Headmaster declared. "I see no reason not to give Harold Graham another chance. But we will have to be discreet, as I am sure Mr. Graham does not want his circumstances to be known. Who shall volunteer to give him the end-of-term exams once more?"

Pennyworth raised her hand.

"I'll do it," she said, red eyes shining. "And I have just the place to hold his remedial exams in."

As soon as Dumbledore gave his approval, she gave a smile that reminded the Headmaster of the Mona Lisa as the faculty meeting went to other matters quickly.

* * *

**Confrontation**

* * *

"...and that's the last of them," Harry said as he gave the parchment to Professor Pennyworth. That long weekend off the school allowed him due to bereavement cleared Harry's head and let him both grieve accordingly and take another look at his notes for the end-of-year exams.

He could even see a ghost of a smile pass by the Ancient Runes professor's lips the moment he made good on his promise to take all the exams within one day.

"Let's hand these in. There is still one subject I have yet to test you on, though... meet me here after half an hour."

Her head leaned towards his, and she whispered in Harry's ear.

"Bring your friend with you."

Green eyes widened.

_She knows!_

And when he turned, the professor was gone.

_**Forget about the foreplay. We're screwed.**_

_Should we go to the professors?_

**_She has plausible deniability. Not us._**

_Remind me, who had the great idea to enroll under Admiral Graham's name again?_

**_Point. What should we do?_**

_Half an hour. There's a lot we can do in half an hour._

Harry ran to an unused classroom.

Once there, he shut the door, sank to the ground, and started hyperventilating.

_What do we do, what do we do, what do we do, what do we do?!_

_**Calm down, Harry! You freaking out is starting to get to me. I need to think.**_

_What should we do, Tom? Professor Pennyworth is DANGEROUS. She makes Professor Dumbledore look like a harmless old man in comparison. Remember the feast?_

**_I do, Harry, I do. And yes, she makes my nonexistent skin crawl even more than Dumbledore or Grindelwald used to do._**

They spent the next few minutes, silent, waiting for Harry's breathing to slow.

_I got a dumb idea, Tom. We're going to fight her._

_**What?!**_

_She has us. And she said she wants to test us. If she wanted us dead, she had every chance to._

**_You're going to take what she says at face value?_**

_Well, we can't go and tell everyone, right?_

**_If we do, she'll tell them about US, and we'd be in much more trouble than it's worth confronting her... Harry, I think you may be onto something here._**

_So how do we go about it?_

**_Save me from my nonexistent Gryffindor-ish tendencies coming to the forefront... okay, Harry. This is what we'll do._**

* * *

**Within the Room of Hidden Things**

* * *

True to form, the Ancient Runes professor was waiting for Harry at the fourth floor, across the classroom where he took his remedial exams.

"I have no illusion that your examination results will be much better than when you first took them, Harold," the professor said as she took the stairs, the student following. "I asked Professor Lupin for a favor, that I be the one to do the practical test for Defense on his behalf. Worry not, I have forgotten more things than people remember, and he's sleeping off his time of the month in a room in the basement."

_**Werewolf, **_Tom said.

_Does it matter? _Harry asked.

"The collar I put on him allows him to retain his mind when transformed. It was but a small pittance for the good work he's done for the year, and a good word from him for when I plan to teach Defense next year."

As they stepped onto the seventh floor, Harry could not help but ask.

"Why are you telling me these things?"

Red eyes bored into green ones as Harry's Ancient Runes professor gave her answer.

"Because the currents of fate are beginning to move. Be wary you do not get swept away by them."

The two of them entered into what looked like a really large Roman arena.

_**I have a bad feeling about this.**_

_When even you are starting to quote Star Wars, Tom, I know it's really bad._

As soon as Harry turned around, his professor was nowhere to be seen.

He rolled to the side as he saw something red appear out of the corner of his eye, his Barrier Jacket activating immediately.

As soon as they turned to see the source, Mage and Device both gaped at what they saw, as their Ancient Runes professor had ditched the "office lady under robes" outfit and was now in a sleek, figure-hugging bodysuit, a red spear in her hands.

Harry barely had the time to shout "Ouroboros!" before the first thrust came, which was batted aside by a desperate swipe from his staff.

The next thrust didn't come, and both Harry and Tom managed to catch their breath long enough to take in the details of their opponent: their professor was now wearing a purple veil, with golden pauldrons on her shoulders, along with the bodysuit and spear.

If Harry was one or two years older he would have appreciated the way the bodysuit fit, but at the moment, he and Ouroboros were locked onto those piercing red eyes.

"Tell me," she began, "why are you carrying Tom Riddle's essence with you, Harry Potter?"

The green orb on the end of Harry's Device glowed.

**"Give us your true name, Professor, and you shall have our answer. Quid pro quo," **Ouroboros intoned.

She could feel the fear the two were emitting, but the way they stood their ground was admirable.

"It seems you do not remember who taught you Ancient Runes here as well, Tom," she replied, her stance loosening a bit. "I find it pitiable that you lost your way during fifth year. My door was open, but you did not choose to walk through it, thinking that your path to perdition was already set."

Ouroboros blinked rapidly in surprise.

**"Professor Lemongrass? No... if you're Professor Pennyworth... and Lemongrass from when I was once here..."**

She smiled.

**"Initiating Emergency Protocols. CVK-702 has been system unlocked. Ouroboros Myriad activated."**

A burst of energy erupted from Harry's Device and when the dust settled, Harry found himself wielding Ouroboros, which had now taken the form of a halberd.

_**Harry, I want you to fight like you've never fought before. She's going to kill us.**_

_Wait, what do you mean?_

_**You don't know your mythology? We're fighting a living legend right now!**_

His first few swings went wide, and the 'professor' dodged them with ease.

_What living legend?!_

_**Just shut up and try to defeat her!**_

After a telegraphed swing that called forth a flurry of Phase Bolts, Harry MOVED. Using Ouroboros to increase his speed, he went in from the side while his opponent was swatting away the projectiles, and he struck... only to find that the hardened blade of concentrated magical energy was being held between two fingers by the frightening woman.

"Promising," she whispered, "but weak!"

It was HER turn to move, as a red spear that hadn't been there before appeared in her left hand, too.

Panicked, Harry switched into Action mode and fired off a flurry of buckshot in his opponent's face to try and get away.

Though the shot hit straight and true, out from the smoke of the blast came a red edge aiming for the heart... and barely missed Harry by a hair.

She emerged unscathed, and amused.

"Weak," she said. "Still weak. But making progress. You're not feeling the effects of my killing intent anymore. A far cry from where you were last year... Harry Potter. And, of course, his... artifact: Tom Riddle."

**"The designation is Device," **Ouroboros replied. **"And I have to ask aloud what the Witch of Dun Scaith is doing, teaching in a school full of children."**

Harry's eyes widened. _Witch of Dun Scaith? Tom, you're not saying that she's..._

_**...Scathach.**_

_**We are currently fighting for our life against Scathach.**_

"...at least you've managed to find your way back, Tom," the Witch said with a genuine smile. "Now, if you want to leave this room alive, **SHOW ME YOUR POWER!**"

No more words were spoken.

None were needed.

* * *

**Ambition's Aftermath**

* * *

It was a tired and worn-out Harold Graham that staggered out of what they now knew as the Room of Hidden Things, their 'professor' (that was the Witch of Dun Scaith in disguise, who knew) helping them to the infirmary.

"My word!" Madam Pomfrey said as soon as she saw Harry and the professor enter. "You weren't TOO rough on him, were you, Penny?"

"Nothing Mr. Graham can't handle," she replied with an easy smile. "He's just exhausted and needs some rest. Oh, and he passed the practical. An easy 'O' for him."

"Glad to know that. I will notify his Head of House immediately."

Harry could not object as he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

* * *

The trip home was sobering.

When he showed the Marauder's Map to Professor Lupin, he gave Harry a knowing wink, but was a bit surprised at the static around Professor Pennyworth's name.

...However, when Harry looked at it, the name clearly read "Scathach".

_**It must be because we are the only ones who know her secret, **_Tom said.

_She'll be teaching Defense next year too, _Harry added. _We've got to get stronger. Much stronger._

_**It's her warning that worries me more, **_Tom said after they got into the Hogwarts Express. _**Is she talking about the Dark Lord or something else?**_

_We'll just cross that bridge when we get to it, _Harry said, his expression resolute as he looked out the window of his solo compartment watching the scenery fly by.

* * *

**Notes:** Yes, I turned the Gryffindor chasers into Harry's very own trio of ara-ara onee-sans. No, I am not sorry.


	3. Year Four, part 1

_disclaimer:_ none of this is mine (as usual).

* * *

**_Ouroboros_ [A Harry Potter and Magical Girl Lyrical Nanoha crossover]**

* * *

**Year 4, Part 1**

* * *

**Gratitude**

* * *

It wasn't long after Harry's return to the Dursleys that the grief began to crawl back into his system.

Fighting with the Witch of Dun Scaith placed it on the back burner, but now that he had some time to digest what had happened, Harry began to sink further and further into a depression.

Even Tom couldn't help him.

It was only when Admiral Graham showed up that he emerged from his room, with red eyes and looking decidedly underweight.

"Let's go see Clyde," the admiral said, and Harry just nodded.

And at the tombstone of Clyde Harlaown did Harry finally acknowledge his need for grieving, as he openly wept as befitting a child of his age when death visits his family.

His godfather Sirius was also there, having become accustomed to life in Mid-Childa. Either Harry was too depressed or didn't care at the time, he did not notice that Sirius had handed over his entire suite of assets in the Wizarding World to his godson.

It was his way of starting over fresh, and at the same time pay back all those missed birthdays.

* * *

**Surprise, mother trucker!**

* * *

When Harry returned from his week-long vacation to Midchilda, he was completely dropped by what he saw upon his return: the Witch herself having tea with the Dursleys.

Her red eyes were twinkling when she saw her prospective apprentice again.

Harry swallowed a lump in his throat, and sat down at the living room table, where the Dursleys were regaled by stories from Harry's teacher about school.

Somehow she knew that his relatives were a bit leery about magic, because the stories she told were the ones involving classroom shenanigans, and that time she started the morning exercise routine for Defense.

Harry showed that he was no slouch when it came to physical prowess, as he was running the laps like a sixth year, despite only in his third year.

Which led into Scathach's proposal: she wanted to personally train the boy, as she could foresee more things he needed to deal with in the future.

* * *

**Why don't you run back to school?**

* * *

It was a very different Harry Graham that showed up to the Express when the time came for Fourth Year to begin: he was beginning to reveal the face of the man he would become, but still retain his boyish charm.

Not only that, the time he spent under "Professor Pennyworth" paid off with massive dividends he had yet to understand.

In his haste to congratulate Cedric Diggory for getting back into Seeker form successfully - and with an additional boon, too, what with mandrake treatments also improving the physique of anyone petrified - Harry didn't notice the three Gryffindor Chasers falling into an excited swoon upon seeing him.

As he tuned out Cedric and Susan Bones' conversation in the compartment, Harry was telepathically conversing with Ouroboros, if not engaging in simulations - it was one thing the admiral taught him during his short stay in Midchilda to keep himself busy, even while resting or waiting.

* * *

**September's Omen**

* * *

It was during the welcoming feast that the Headmaster declared that at the end of next month, the champions for the Triwizard Tournament would be selected.

Harry had the nagging feeling that he would be chosen to participate over his objections - that Granger fellow from Gryffindor did her homework and said that the Tournament was dangerous.

_**It just goes to show, Harry, that sometimes you don't have to go looking for trouble. Sometimes trouble goes out of its way to look for you.**_

_Don't I know that, Tom._

He was talking with Cedric when the Seeker had mentioned something about the World Cup match. Some Death Eaters had crashed the party, but were taken out discreetly before any disaster would show up.

Sure enough, it was the Witch of Dun Scaith who took on the work of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, as Professor Babbling had returned from her sabbatical, teaching Ancient Runes once more.

* * *

**Just My Freaking Luck**

* * *

The days leading up to Halloween were like a death sentence for Harry. Although he didn't put his name in the Goblet, he could think of several people - and one Witch - who would do it because reasons.

The distraction definitely affected Harry's studies, as his normally-excellent grades were beginning to taper a bit downward, despite his best efforts.

But when the day of October 31st came upon them, Harry's worst fears were realized.

Beauxbatons' chosen was Fleur Delacour.

Durmstrang's chosen was Viktor Krum.

Hogwarts chose Cedric Diggory.

But the Goblet of Fire burned on, refusing to dim. The organizers gathered did not know what was going on until the previously burning orange flame burned purple, and a powerful presence made herself known.

A woman in white emerged from the shadows, a visible purple aura of power surrounding her. She wore a veil, carried a wand, and stopped everyone in their tracks where she walked.

Even Fleur's half-Veela appeal was no match.

And then she spoke.

"I am the Witch of Dun Scaith, the ruler of the Land of Shadows: Scathach!" she announced, silencing everyone in the Great Hall.

"And I invoke my right as the teacher of heroes to choose a champion for this tournament. My choice is..."

Ouroboros and Harry Potter groaned simultaneously.

"...from Hogwarts' Hufflepuff House, the wizard Harold Graham!"

_Great._

**_Just fucking great._**

_Which reminds me. Everyone here is too spooked to notice how she resembles the DADA professor._

**_That's shock and awe for you, Harry._**

* * *

**Sizing Them Up**

* * *

It was with the air of someone sick and tired of this shit that Harry entered the room with the contestants.

The first to react to his presence was the Veela girl.

"What is he doing here?" she asked, with barely any trace of a French accent. "Isn't this boy too young to be competing here?"

"If I had my way, I'd be cheering the three of you on," Harry answered, "but since an immortal Witch whose dominion also includes the grounds of Hogwarts showed up and put me up to this stunt for goodness-knows reasons, I'm stuck with the three of you."

"You don't look like you put your name in the goblet," Krum said, after giving Harry a once-over. "I like the look in your eyes, though. You will make a good opponent."

"I'll do my best not to make you look bad," Harry replied, before turning to Cedric. "You think I want to be here?"

He shook his head. "Even then, as my dad loved to say back when he came back from working at MACUSA, when life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

_**I'd turn those lemons into grenades and throw them at the Witch,** _Tom grumbled. _**And yes, don't think too much about why Beauxbatons' and Durmstrang's best can speak flawless English.**_

_You're filtering their speech?_

_**Since first year,** _Tom admitted. _**You would have quite the time trying to get what Hagrid or McGonagall says in class without me.**_

_Thanks, I guess. They don't look like I cheated my way here._

**_It's as what you said. Appearance is everything. Here they come._**

Harry turned to see the headmasters of each magic school enter the classroom where the contestants were waiting: first came Olympe Maxime from Beauxbatons, then Durmstrang's Karkaroff, Headmaster Dumbledore, and finally, the Witch of Dun Scaith herself.

What would normally be an uproar was replaced with an awkward silence as the obviously under-aged participant was chosen by a witch out of myth and legend, and couldn't voice their objections lest they be pinned to the walls by her glare alone.

"If I may ask, is this a test for young Mr. Graham?" Dumbledore finally asked, and the red-eyed witch nodded.

"That is so," she said. "It is the last test I shall give him to see if he truly is worthy of becoming my first apprentice in several centuries."

Eyes went wide and heads turned towards Harry at the declaration, and all he wanted to do was invent a spell that allowed him to melt into the stone floor of the classroom.

"Well, if someone of her power says so, who am I to object?" Fleur said, turning narrowed eyes at Harry before turning towards her headmistress.

"It seems the Triwizard will be a lot more than we bargained for, and the stakes have never been higher. You may think this contest is already won, but we will make you bleed for every inch of your victory, witch," Headmistress Maxime added, before the two witches from Beauxbatons turned their heel and left, with the Witch of Dun Scaith sporting an amused expression on her face as they exited.

"My boy Viktor is looking forward to this - as am I," Karkaroff said with something less than a smile and more a polite showing of teeth before he led his student out of the classroom.

"Harry..." Dumbledore began.

"Being put in situations like this gets my big brother Clyde out of my mind," Harry replied with a shrug, "small blessings and all. You sure you're not sore about this, Cedric?"

Cedric grinned.

"If this didn't happen, I'd be taking you to the Quidditch pitch, Harry," he admitted, the desire to put himself over his underclassman beginning to flash in his eyes. "You couldn't even wait until I was done here, huh?"

Harry stepped up to the challenge.

"I never asked for this, but I'm not going to back down, either. See you at the Tasks... Cedric."

The other Hufflepuff flashed him a predatory smile before he left with the Headmaster.

As soon as the door closed, the pendant around Harry's neck lit up in a brilliant green.

**"I don't even want to know,"** Ouroboros began.

"You'll understand when the final task is done," the witch replied enigmatically. "Suffice it to say that someone else wants you in this contest, and the only way to waylay his attempts was to appropriate it for myself."

**"You're talking about the Dark Lord, right?"** Tom asked. **"It fits his - also my - delusions of grandeur."**

"This better end with me shoving an Arch Smash up Voldemort's nose," Harry grumbled, the training sessions with Scathach beginning to give him a rather crude vocabulary.

"You'll get your chance. For now, just carry on as usual. All our preparation for the Tournament will take place before and after classes."

_**"Oh, joy,"**_ mage and Device replied simultaneously.

* * *

**Your Goose is Cooked**

* * *

According to Professor "Pennyworth", the arrangement she made with the Witch of Dun Scaith was that she would teach the theoretical parts of Defense, while her beautiful but intimidating counterpart would take care of the practical parts; the sham was that it was how the Witch earned her spot in the Triwizard Tournament with Harry freaking Potter as her personal champion.

Needless to say, only Harry and Tom knew that this was all sleight-of-hand; even the Headmaster didn't know that Babbling's aide, this year's Defense professor, and the renowned Witch of Dun Scaith were all just one and the same person: Scathach.

She still emphasized physical fitness during morning classes, and now, instead of the entire eligible male student body joining up to see what Professor Pennyworth looked like in those athletic leggings, even the female students had to see what was up.

Which pleased the Witch, as to be able to catch a glimpse of her outfit, they had to be able to run at her pace.

But that wasn't Harry's concern right now, as after a rigorous lecture on the nature of the unforgivable curses - the Imperius in particular - the Witch asked Hermione Granger to stick around after a class.

Since they were due training after this class, Harry took up a seat and waited for Professor Pennyworth's talk with his academic rival.

"What is this supposed to be?" Scathach asked flatly as she brandished a familiar-looking badge.

"Um, that's a SPEW badge."

The Witch nodded. "I can see that. What's it stand for?"

"Um..." Hermione replied, her face slowly growing red, "the... Society for the Promotion of Elvish Welfare."

"Uh-huh-huh. Thank-you-very-much," the Witch said in a passable Elvis impression, and carried on after seeing the incredulous look on her student's face. "Since it seems you don't know who the King is, and that Tolkien's elves are faring well for themselves, I'm going to go out on a limb and say you're referring to house elves."

Hermione nodded.

"I'd commend your initiative, Miss Granger, but this stunt of yours is the magical society equivalent of someone barely catching the train going in the wrong direction."

"Beg your pardon, Professor?"

The Witch let out an exasperated breath.

"I am going to suspend you from all academic activity in Defense," she declared. "In return, I want you to conduct as comprehensive a study as you can make about house elves. Interviews, genealogy, historical records, family accounts, whipped cream and a cherry on top. The works."

"I don't see why -"

_You could smash boulders on the Witch's expression,_ Harry thought.

"That's exactly my point," she interrupted, her voice staying even despite her face telling another story, "you don't see why. Your final grade for the entire school year in Defense will depend on this study. Feel free to sit in my classes, but I want monthly status reports and the study done and ready for defense before the end-of-year exams."

Hermione looked like she'd crumble into dust with a stiff breeze.

"Am I understood?"

"Yes... yes, Professor," she whispered.

"I don't want to hold you any further from your work; you can leave."

_**Were those tears I saw as she turned to go?** _Tom asked.

_That is the most ___cliché_'d thing I've seen here so far_, Harry added.

"What was that all about, Professor?" he asked as soon as they were en route to a vacant classroom where they'd do high-level theory work in preparation for the Tournament.

"Dealing with a concern before it becomes a catastrophe," the Witch answered. "I have no doubt that your friend has a good heart. Her way of thinking is rather rigid, though. I hope this serves as a wake-up call for her; I've seen my fair share of people like her doing unspeakable things in the name of good intentions."

"You're saying Hermione's a zealot."

"Not yet," the Witch clarified, "but soon. I've lived long enough to see enough of her kind; it's rare for me to be able to intervene. Once this year's up, you should probably keep an eye on her at best and oppose her more... naive propositions at worst."

"I hope it doesn't have to be that way..."

"Well, let's hope the work I've given her turns her away from that path. But enough about her; we're going to have to expand the versatility of your spell work before the First Task."

She turned to the blackboard, and gestured, revealing several Arithmancy formulae.

"These are the general arithmantic calculations needed in order to do what is called the 'parabolic casting arc'."

* * *

**Take That For Data!**

* * *

After the lecture, Harry decided to do some extra reading in the library. He acquired the book on Arithmancy he needed to curve his spells, and when heading to a table, he saw the shell-shocked Hermione Granger hard at work writing notes on a roll of parchment.

"How are you holding up?" he asked.

A frazzled and ghastly face turned towards him.

Apparently not well.

"Need a bit of a hand there?"

Her grateful nod looked like that of a man in the desert finding an oasis.

"I don't get it," she said in the hallways after her hands started cramping up and her eyes couldn't focus anymore, signaling the end of her study session. "Why would Professor Pennyworth take a page from that scary lady and make me do this?"

Harry shrugged.

"Maybe she's teaching you a lesson? She's not the type to throw you into the deep end and make you swim."

Telepathically, Tom laughed out loud at that.

"I know, but still... she all but told me that SPEW is a horrible idea."

"Well, she's playing to your strengths. You're the best at our year in acquiring insight from books, right? Maybe that's why Professor Pennyworth gave you this research for the year."

"Guess so..."

"Besides, there's no shame in asking for help. Uncle Gil tells me that stealing from one is plagiarism; stealing from many and quoting your sources is research."

The fourth-year Ravenclaw laughed.

"I hope you won't be too busy with Scathach coaching you for the Triwizard," she said.

"Not really," Harry replied. "She does know the value of time management and rest, you know."

They walked to their next class, which was Potions.

As it turned out, having the Witch of Dun Scaith on call as a teaching assistant made sure Professor Snape went above and beyond the call of duty as a Potions professor.

* * *

**Through the Fire and Flames**

* * *

Several weeks had passed, and the date of the First Task was looming over Harry and Ouroboros like the proverbial Sword of Damocles.

Despite the groundskeeper Hagrid offering Harry to see what was going on in the Forbidden Forest, he declined; the Witch in charge of his tournament preparations as well as his Device had seen to the details.

_There would be dragons._

**_This is fine._**

_No, this is the furthest thing away from fine. We're fucked._

**_What I meant was, this is something we can see coming at us. That Witch..._**

Harry let out a tired breath.

_**...we can only see her coming when she feels like it.**_

_Don't I know that._

He entered the Room of Requirement to see the Witch waiting for him, wearing her combat outfit and wielding her spear.

"So..." she began. "Dragons."

"That's right, ma'am."

The Witch narrowed her eyes.

"Okay, change of plans. Time to train you in resisting fire."

Her fingers flashed into runes.

"Ansuz."

What followed was a torrent of curses from Harry and his Device as they constantly avoided getting burned to death by the skin of their teeth.

**_Okay, we have that out of the way._**

_What?_

**_Apparently our esteemed teacher of heroes has a touchy subject._**

_Who would want to use fire runes on someone just for calling her ma'am? It boggles the mind._

_**Not if you consider that the Witch has been around for at least two thousand years, maybe more.**_

_Oh._

Harry pulled himself up from the smoking heap he was a moment ago, shaking off the ashes and smoke that came from his still-warm Barrier Jacket.

"You know, we've been training for some time, but you haven't told us how you'd want to be addressed, Professor," he began.

The Witch stopped and took a moment to think.

"'Master' would be preferable," she replied.

"All right, Master," Harry said. "Do you think that will be enough for tomorrow's dragons?"

She nodded.

"More than enough. Do not embarrass me out there by winning the challenge with a simple Summoning Charm. I want a spectacle."

_**So the challenge is acquiring an object.**_

_Apparently so._

"As you wish, Master," Harry said as he returned Ouroboros to its pendant form, the Barrier Jacket vanishing into motes of green light with it. "A spectacle it will be."

* * *

**Dogfight**

* * *

The morning of the First Challenge was a temperate and clear autumn day in November: the weighing of the wands took place the day before.

Rita Skeeter never got the chance to bring her quick-quote quill out during the event, as she earned one of those piercing glares from Harry's benefactor.

"Dr. Radom has outdone herself this time," Garrick Olivander declared when he took a hold of Ouroboros, transformed into a wand. "Variable length, core of an inert phylactery, exceptional synergy with its wielder."

"What is that supposed to mean?" the headmaster of Durmstrang asked.

"It means that this wand is not my work, but still an out-of-this-world masterpiece all its own," the wandmaker said enigmatically as he gave Ouroboros a wave, only for it to shoot out green fireworks.

That was the only eventful thing that took place.

The next day, right before the quote-unquote festivities began, the four contestants were made to select a dragon.

Harry smiled when he pulled the Hungarian Horntail, though it was brittle, because all the while, he and Tom were telepathically conjuring as many four-letter words as they could.

It was during the three weeks leading up to this part that Harry and his Device picked up quite the vocabulary, thanks to all those "training sessions" with the Witch of Dun Scaith.

As Harry walked to the arena, he was in mental conversation with his Device.

_I'm still a bit put out that we have to do the modifications on your Barrier Jacket to show off our House._

**_It's necessary. I mean, we still have three more winter gatherings to slog through in here before we finally gain our sweet, sweet freedom!_**

_Now Playing: Freedom! '90 - George Michael_

_Remind me to thank Uncle Gil for giving you those upgrades. Makes essays, research and general studying much less of a slog this year._

**_Well you ARE one of the champions in the Triwizard - come to think of it, are we still calling it that?_**

_Three schools, Tom._

They emerged into the morning sunlight, and few cheers erupted from the gathered crowd to see the last Triwizard contestant face off against a dragon.

* * *

It took five seconds into the First Task for the fecal matter to critically impact the rotary oscillator ventilation system.

With a massive crack, the chains binding the Hungarian Horntail came off, and it eyed Harry with a particularly venomous gaze.

The Firebolt he summoned would have been burned to a crisp had he not jumped to avoid the river of flame heading his way.

Harry breathed a momentary sigh of relief, except in a few seconds, the Horntail was at his tail, flying at him.

_Holy shit!_

**_THIS FUCKING CHANGES EVERYTHING!_**

_I know, we can double back and get the golden egg, but we have to shake that thing afterward!_

**_GOOD IDEA! LET'S SET THE MOOD FOR OUR... SHENANIGANS!_**

_Now Playing: Aces High - Iron Maiden_

Harry smiled, and the aerial battle was on.

* * *

**Ace Combat**

* * *

While the Horntail was giving chase, Ouroboros was outlining the plan of attack needed to finish the task to their master's specifications.

_**Okay, don't blast the dragon into pieces, they were brought in from a Bulgarian dragon reserve. Another thing, nesting mother. Don't get the eggs in trouble. Huge points off if you harm them or get the mother to step on them.**_

_How about the golden egg?_ Harry asked while doing an Immelmann turn to keep the dragon away from the castle proper.

_**Already tagged it with a Multi-dimensional Lock. We just need to fly by it. I've also already timed the Horntail's bursts of flame. We have approximately a 1.5 to 1.75 second window where we can swoop down and grab the golden egg.**_

_What about the dragon? Do we have any powerful stun magic on hand?_

_**We do have the CVK-709. Didn't want to use it, since we've been saving that all summer long... **_

_I think we have to do it if we want to pacify the dragon without putting us, the eggs, AND the dragon in any more danger._

_**But it will leave you open for its fire breath.**_

_Not if we lure it a far enough distance. Come on!_

Harry turned the Firebolt towards the egg pile, the first part of their task set. Keeping the dragon away from its eggs involved Harry slowing down and then using a Phase Bolt as a makeshift afterburner, blinding the dragon momentarily and stopping it, as it also saw its eggs close by.

After the golden egg was secure in Harry's hands, he gunned the broom towards the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest.

**"MOVE, BITCHES!"** he yelled out with a magic-enhanced voice, glad that the wildlife had taken his hint and fled before coming to a full stop. He swung around and turned his Device towards the Horntail, which was now bearing towards him with immense speed.

"Hope this works," Harry said, and recalled the moment a certain guardian gave him its blessing. **"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"**

A white circle emerged from close by, and a copy of Voltaire emerged, stopping the Horntail in its tracks. Despite the patronus only being two-thirds the size of the Horntail, the sheer weight of its personality made the other dragon halt.

"Your eggs are safe," Harry said, and his dragon grunted and roared in what appeared to be the dragon's tongue. "I was only tasked to acquire this."

He brought out the golden egg, and the dragon moved its head dangerously close to Harry to see if he was speaking truth.

Harry's vision was momentarily filled with gray as the Horntail snorted smoke in his face, and when he could finally see, the dragon was quickly making its way back to its egg pile, concern on its expression.

Just as Harry's patronus dispersed into motes of light, he let out a sigh of relief and exhaustion.

"That was too close for comfort," he told no one in particular, his Device blinking its assent, and started his Firebolt back to where the crowds were waiting.

As soon as he made it there, he took up his place next to the other Triwizard contestants to get their scores, and collapsed on his butt onto the grass in exhaustion.

Apparently, he was the only one who managed to get the egg in the most flawless method possible, as even Karkaroff gave him a VERY grudging 8 for his performance.

He was so out of it that he barely heard what the next challenge in the Triwizard would be, and when he opened them again, he found himself being carried piggy-back by his Master back into the castle.

"How'd we do," he whispered blearily, and when his eyes met hers, he found that the Witch's gaze had softened to a remarkable degree - or maybe it was just him dreaming lucidly.

"You did well enough," she answered. "We'll go back to work after the weekend. Enjoy your rest."

As it turns out, Harry didn't, as he slept all day Saturday and woke up Sunday night, to his frustration and the Witch's amusement.

Still, the first week after the dragon challenge had her go easy on him, much to his relief, because his magical reserves weren't quite yet recovered.

The matter of the golden egg still puzzled him, though; even after the Witch told him about the instructions leading up to the Second Task.

* * *

**The Great Big Pile-Up**

* * *

Harry's nearly-flawless handling of the first task didn't gain him much attention from his own House, but everyone else had grudgingly accepted that yes, Harry did deserve a spot at the Triwizard, and was making the most of it.

Which wasn't that meaningful to him; Hufflepuff House was known for standing by their champion Cedric, and he technically wasn't a Hogwarts champion, he was one for Dun Scaith.

But all of that quickly disappeared when he read the announcements that a Yule Ball would be held in honor of all four participants.

**_There will be socializing._**

_I can handle socializing._

**_There will be dancing._**

_Easy enough._

**_You'll have to dress formally, too. And take a crash course in wizarding ethics._**

_Fuck me._

**_Hey, we have a master we can ask for help. She's been around long enough to know about those things._**

_Fine, but if she laughs at me, I'm going to say 'I told you so'._

**_Go right ahead, Harry._**

* * *

To Ouroboros' surprise, the Witch did not laugh at his predicament.

"Well, I now know what to train you with during downtime," she said with a sly smile on her face.

"Whatever you say, Master," Harry replied with his head hanging down.

"Don't wear that face around me," the Witch added. "Besides, you are not the only one who needs to have a drastic makeover for the upcoming Yule Ball. I have very high standards and I will do as much as I can to ensure those standards are met."

Harry could feel his Device whisper "there but for the grace of God go I", and felt sorry for whoever unlucky chump got saddled with being Scathach's date for the Yule Ball.

"Also, I know you run what Tom calls 'simulations' in your off time, so I can take at least half an hour off a day for... personal business," the Witch replied. "I will be done with that next week, and the school will get to see it firsthand."

She smiled enigmatically before leaving Harry and his Device in the abandoned classroom to their thoughts.

* * *

The very next week, Professor Pennyworth's early-morning Defense class wasn't held in the castle outskirts - apparently, her 'business' was converting a wing of the castle's ground floor into an Olympic-sized swimming pool.

And the moment she emerged and dropped the bathrobe around her to reveal a competition swimsuit, chaos literally ensued in Hogwarts.

Standing in a corner in the midst of all the mayhem was Harry and Tom, shaking their heads at what was going on.

Still, though, it revealed something very important to the Witch of Dun Scaith.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," she said. "You... and you. Both of you can't swim."

**"Unfortunately, I had deemed it an irrelevant skill back when I wasn't... like this, Professor Lemongrass."**

"I'm not Professor Lemongrass right now, Tom."

"And my first bout of accidental magic was when somebody tried to drown me as a kid. Dudley chased the guy off. So... never thought about learning how to swim."

The Witch sighed.

"All right," she said. "We'll take swimming lessons all the way to the Yule Ball if we're not working on your etiquette and dancing."

Harry nodded.

"Sounds good, Master."

"I mean it when I say you will NOT make me look bad. You carry the name of Dun Scaith with you in this tournament."

* * *

**Please Harry Don't Hurt 'Em**

* * *

"Okay, Harold. I want to see how well you dance. Did you bring music?"

Harry took off Ouroboros and placed him onto one of the chairs in the vacant classroom, most of the chairs moved to the back to provide some room for master and apprentice to work on the dance at the upcoming Yule Ball.

"Ouroboros, play track on the count of three."

"Three."

"Two."

Harry got himself in a pose.

"One."

And his Device began to play.

_"Can't touch this."_

For a full minute after Harry's 'dance', the Witch of Dun Scaith was staring dumbfounded and slack-jawed at her apprentice.

After the spell had broken, she had regained some of her dignity back and asked a simple question.

"You DO know that this isn't the type of music that gets played at a ball, right?"

She could have sworn she saw the Device smirking, if an inanimate object could.

* * *

"You're probably the youngest in the dance here, so don't get too distracted when dancing. Stepping on your partner's foot in the waltz - while it isn't the worst faux pas during events like these - ranks pretty high up. So let's work on that."

The Witch had Ouroboros put on a waltz for her to train her apprentice in, and thanks to those ridiculous dance moves Harry pulled off before, she knew that the boy had rhythm.

Sparring against him already established that fact, she just had to know how good Harry's rhythm was.

And it ended up working out pretty well; Harry was a quick study. Scathach also noted that Ouroboros (never Tom, you never knew who would be listening) also helped.

"I am surprised at your rapid learning," she said during a break.

**"I for one found this practice unnecessary,"** Ouroboros interjected. **"Seeing the boss stumble and struggle his way towards the waltz reminds me of what I missed."**

"But he did do a passable... what do you call that dance of his?"

**"The Hammer,"** Ouroboros replied. **"If you would like, I have video footage of him learning that dance together with his cousin."**

_**"YOU DIDN'T DELETE THAT YET?"** _Harry asked in consternation, and his Master just laughed.

* * *

**Water Sports**

* * *

It was several days close to the Yule Ball when the Witch had announced Harry passable, if not competent, at swimming. Teaching him a simple side stroke, how to float, and how to budget his breaths took some effort, but Harry soldiered through.

As they were leaving the pool for the last time until after the Yule Ball and Second Task, the Witch used a bit of Legilimency to try and see what Tom and Harry were talking about.

"You must never tell her that."

"Right. I mean, not only is our Master one of the magical legends... she's totally out of my league."

"About time you figured that out."

"No, I mean, yeah, I mean, UGH! Why must this be so difficult?"

Ouroboros only laughed.

"Reminds me of the time I was going through the same thing as you did. I can say I handled it a lot more gracefully than you did."

"Probably because you were planning world domination at the time and didn't pay attention to your voice cracking!"

"That's true. I also didn't suffer the pitfall of sudden onset of puberty after I saw a living legend wearing a swimsuit, so that's that."

The exasperated grunt Harry made mentally sounded like a 'okay you got me there' from him, Ouroboros laughed again, and the Witch cut the legilimency feed.

She had a pretty good idea about what to do in the next dueling club meeting.

* * *

**Much Much Mo'fuggin' Later**

* * *

A few days before the Yule Ball, Professors Pennyworth and Snape hosted the last Dueling Club meeting before the end of the year.

There were the usual mock duels, theories, spell craft improvement... and then the Witch of Dun Scaith surprised everybody.

"The tournament at the end of the term will have a special prize for the winner," she declared, and brandished a magical photograph.

It was the magical equivalent of one of those cheesecake photographs you found in magazines, where the Witch herself was posing wearing the same competition swimsuit she wore for teaching swimming classes.

Needless to say, everyone suddenly wanted to become the best duelist in the year.

Snape gave Pennyworth an exasperated look, and the Witch returned it with a "who, me?" smile of her own.

Harry and Tom both marveled at the sight: just one picture of their Defense professor started a hormonal feeding frenzy.

And it was only a couple minutes after most of the upper years went temporarily insane at the thought of possessing that photograph that Harry realized that he had no date for the Yule Ball yet, and had to find one. He was reminded about what his Master said about how going to the Yule Ball without a date would not paint a good picture of Dun Scaith, and thought about who would make a decent date without making a huge splash.

* * *

**The Great Big Yule Ball of Violence**

* * *

Not long after the Dueling Club meeting and the insanity that followed, Harry was walking along the castle hallways towards the Main Hall when he ran into someone unexpected.

"Oh," Fleur Delacour said, her French accent still coloring her speech despite Ouroboros filtering it. "It is you, Mr. Graham."

"Harry," the Witch's apprentice said, "Mr. Graham makes me sound old."

She laughed pleasantly at Harry's attempt at humor, and gestured.

"I am in need of some company. Please, walk with me."

Knowing that you don't say no to a beautiful woman - Harry and Tom learned that lesson the hard way several times already - Harry nodded, and the two of them found their way onto the grounds, where the Witch's morning jogs had carved a worn path on the ground.

As they walked, Fleur passed the time telling Harry funny stories about everyone stumbling over themselves trying to ask for her favor when going to the Yule Ball. Somebody from Beauxbatons named Montague even tried to strong-arm her into it, only for the Witch to appear from the shadows and intimidate him away with nothing more than a stare.

Harry could understand the reason for her hostility now: because of her skill as a duelist, Veela bloodline, and looking like one of those models in those underwear catalogs he noticed Dudley had been reading in secret lately, Fleur had been the queen bee of the student body.

And then a teacher - a living legend, even! - from Hogwarts shows up and makes her look pedestrian in comparison.

"...I mean, the part of me that is a witch does not comprehend why the veela part of me wants to throw fireballs at that professor. It is something that I have yet to confide to our Headmistress," she finished, and Harry saw that they were right under the Astronomy Tower.

The Beauxbatons delegate stopped the boy, held him at arms' length, and took a minute to size him up from head to toe.

"I accept your proposal in being your Yule Ball date," she said, though the expression on her face said otherwise.

"I never actually asked you to-" Harry said, and was stopped when he saw Fleur's magic begin to flare.

"I said, **I ACCEPT YOUR PROPOSAL IN BEING YOUR YULE BALL DATE,**" she said with more vehemence than insistence, and Harry quickly nodded.

_You do NOT say no to a beautiful woman,_ indeed.

As soon as he nodded, the magic receded and Fleur quickly returned to walking along the path, talking about her classmate Claire and her plans to jump the Hogwarts champion after their Yule Ball date, and Harry quickly fell into step with her, the bizarre scene still fresh in his mind.

_**Beautiful witches are dangerous,** _Ouroboros whispered.

_You're damn right,_ Harry whispered back.

* * *

Naturally, when Harry gave the news to his Master, she laughed uproariously.

"She might not like me much, but I like her guts," the Witch of Dun Scaith said. "Goodness knows I've seen my fair share of feisty warrior women and feisty witches over the years. Brings me back... anyway, your dancing is up to specifications, your spell work is fantastic, and you can swim decently. There is one thing you need, though."

"And that is?"

"Party wear."

**"Worry not, Professor,"** Ouroboros replied. **"I have taken care of that."**

With a flash of light, Harry now wore a fancy set of robes over a black suit with silver and green trim: the robes were likewise accented with mostly yellow and orange, and runes signifying the wearer being blessed by the Land of Shadows.

"I see you have taken my advice to heart," the Witch remarked, nodding in approval. "It is also designed for ease of movement, very good. All right, I shall accompany you to the Ball, and hand you over to your date."

"Good to know, Master," Harry said, grateful that he'd have some time to rest after the Ball and before the second task.

* * *

The Yule Ball was, magic aside, just what Harry expected from a ball: formal attire, small talk, and what Ouroboros described as "establishing connections".

And of course, he made a splash - or rather, his Master did - walking into the Ball wearing a purple dress trimmed with stars, her full array of feminine charms in tasteful display as she strutted down the entrance, her apprentice following.

Two-thirds of the way, they saw where the headmistress of Beauxbatons and its champion Fleur waited, and walked towards them.

Harry could almost see the lightning from the half-giant's eyes as she exchanged pleasantries with his Master, and Fleur looking very nice in her own little black dress.

"Breakfast at Tiffany's?" Harry asked, and for one moment, Fleur's haughty expression was replaced with shock.

"How did you know...?"

"My aunt's a fan of Audrey Hepburn. Come on, time for us to meet the press," Harry said, gesturing for them to enter arm-in-arm.

With fake smiles on their faces and arms linked, both Champions crossed the threshold into the Great Hall, the flash of cameras immediately heralding their arrival.

It was the greatest entrance to the Yule Ball so far, except (of course) the Witch had to show them up by walking onto the scene with Filius Flitwick as her Yule Ball date.

* * *

After hors d'oeuvres were served, the guests began to mingle. Cedric found himself very entertained by Claire's stories about Beauxbatons, Krum had stunned everyone by bringing Hermione Granger as his date, and the biggest hype - the Witch aside - came from Ronald Weasley bringing in the Patil twins, one on each of his arms.

Harry had just had an enlightening little chat with Rita Skeeter about his showmanship in the First Task and was about to return to his table when a man with long silver hair went towards him.

"Mister Graham," he said. "I would not wish to impose on the champion of Dun Scaith, but I require a precious few minutes of your time."

"It would not be an inconvenience, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said, extending his hand, which the older man shook. "How can the champion of Dun Scaith help you, sir?"

"That is not my purpose," the man answered. "I only wish to thank you for interceding on my... son's imprudent actions. He has yet to realize... the subtleties of his position."

"It is of no consequence," Harry explained. "I merely decided to guide him towards a... better path, rather than have someone else force him towards it with more... unnecessary roughness... in the future."

"Indeed," Mr. Malfoy said with a polite nod. "He has truly begun to understand the intricacies of power and influence in this world, thanks to your intervention, Mr. Graham. For that, I do believe that House Malfoy owes you a favor... it would be of poor showing if our Noble House does not pay its debts appropriately."

"You are most welcome, Mr. Malfoy," Harry said.

"I shall no longer interrupt your enjoyment of this night. Have a good evening, Mr. Graham."

"You as well, Mr. Malfoy. Please send Mrs. Malfoy and Draco my regards as well."

He nodded and turned away to where Draco was waiting, the younger Malfoy's face turned to the other end of the hall where his date was chatting up some of the Durmstrang delegates.

_Thanks a lot back there, Tom,_ Harry thought as he made his way back to his table. _It's just like you said._

_**For all of Malfoy's power and influence, there are some gestures that he has to do to maintain them,** _Tom replied. _**It is part and parcel of his status as the head of an Ancient and Noble House.**_

_Noblesse oblige?_

**_Something like that._**

Fleur had likewise returned to the table shortly after Harry did, and they were trading stories about Headmistress Maxime and the Witch of Dun Scaith. Quite a few minutes into their exchange, the master of ceremonies used a voice amplification charm to announce that the dance ball was now open, and that the champions (and their dates) would have the first dance.

A jaunty smile was on Harry's face as he turned to his date and fellow champion.

"Showtime," he whispered as he extended an arm to gallantly help her up and for them to link arms while heading to the dance floor.

* * *

The first dance was a waltz, which Harry pulled off with no problems whatsoever.

"Didn't know you were quite the dancer," Fleur said with amusement in her eyes after the music wound down.

"I am a man of many talents," Harry replied with a smile of his own.

Unfortunately, that was when the other master of ceremonies called for the second dance, and the waltz band stepped off the stage to take a well-deserved break.

The band that went on stage brought a lot of exotic instruments, and when the bongos hit, Harry quickly flashed back to a few weeks before...

* * *

"Tell me again why we are doing this?" Harry asked as his feet tried to step on the patterns lighting up on the floor in rhythm.

"Good multitasking," Scathach replied, "and I have a very reliable source tell me that the waltz will not be the only one on the dance card."

"Okay," Harry said. "This dance is kind of odd."

"Of course," the Witch added. "Because before I deem you worthy in the tango, you're going to have to impress your partner - me."

Both Harry and his Device just thought of one word at this development.

_**Fuck.**_

* * *

The saxophone hit, the rhythm started, and Fleur quickly grabbed Harry by the waist and pulled him close as she started the first few steps of the tango.

The champion of Dun Scaith quickly recovered and caught up, his dance moves beginning to shift according to how his Master showed him.

"For a little boy, you are quite manly," she whispered as they drew close, right before they spun back... and he could sense her trying to put a foot where his was supposed to be.

**_She's going to play that game, huh?_**

_We should probably humor her, but not make her look bad. We are champions, after all._

**_Prudent._**

Instead of the move she expected, Harry stepped to the side, grabbed her waist with two hands, and shifted her so that her side was facing him, and covered her loss of balance by guiding her leg with his hand so she raised it in the air as he lowered her upper body flawlessly just as the chorus hit, eliciting a scandalized gasp from the audience.

The exchange continued, with Fleur trying to get Harry to miss a step, but Scathach's apprentice turning each attempt into a daring tango move.

One attempt to trip him even had the audience tittering with glee as what was supposed to be Harry losing his balance became him moving his head scandalously close to Fleur's chest before he moved back upright.

"You don't seem to be affected by my allure," she noticed as they went to another move.

"My Master's killing intent makes yours seem gentle by comparison," Harry explained as he spun her in for another hip-swinging maneuver.

"You're not going to win this Tournament," she added as the second chorus hit.

"That's the problem," Harry said as they spun away again, and continued when they drew close. "You want to win."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I MUST win. You know my Master."

Fleur smirked as their faces drew close, and when they pulled away, she was smiling.

"That doesn't mean I'm going to lose to you."

"All right," he said as they moved back in for the show-ender, and the audience applauded as they ended it with another bend, with Fleur playing along this time.

"Give it up for our champions!" the master of ceremonies said, and that was the cue for the Weird Sisters to make their entrance, starting off with a cover song to accustom themselves to the Muggleborn in the audience.

Meanwhile, Harry was with Fleur and walking back to their table. Each of them had a light patina of sweat on their foreheads, but left the dance floor with a significantly larger understanding of the other.

Once they were seated, one of the house elves (this one had a bizarre suit and tie) walked up to them with two flutes of champagne on a tray. Harry gave his fellow champion an oddly raised eyebrow, but upon remembering "beautiful witches are dangerous", took the other flute.

"That was a lot better than I thought," she began with a grin. "You, Monsieur Graham, are a very intriguing young man. It will be a shame that you will be defeated in the Triwizard."

Harry answered with a smirk of his own. "We'll see about that. I wasn't placed here to lose."

Fleur gestured with her flute. "A toast, then. To the victor of the Triwizard."

"Hear, hear," Harry said, raising his own flute, and the two had a personal toast before each taking sips of champagne.

After the drink, Fleur excused herself after seeing her spitting image - only much smaller - somewhere in the hall. Harry then made out Cedric Diggory making his way towards him, without his date.

"You really love the attention, don't you, Graham," he began, smiling, but his eyes told a different story. "The Prophet's going to put that pose of yours with Delacour on the front page, believe me."

Harry just shrugged. "It's just a dance."

"Not to the audience and not to the other champions," he added. "You may not notice, but you're making the other champions look bad."

"My apologies if others see it that way," Harry said, his eyes not quite meeting Cedric's as he looked this way and that for Cedric's date, "but I was instructed to maintain the image of Dun Scaith. None of what else happens after this is deliberate or intentional, if that will make you and Mr. Krum feel better."

"Indeed," the voice of the Durmstrang champion came from close by. "You have made this tournament an extravaganza many will speak of. This tournament has gained a lot of prestige - but in return it pressures us to try and outdo your performance... that is yet another challenge here I must overcome."

"Do your best," Harry said, trying to put as much sincerity into the statement, he didn't want to come across as arrogant, "and let's make this Triwizard one to remember."

"That I can toast to," Cedric said, raising his wine glass, and Krum raising his own.

The toast was friendly, but Harry could see the ambition in their eyes.

* * *

It was several minutes after the other two Champions left when Fleur returned with a smaller carbon copy in tow.

"Hello!" the mini-Fleur said. "My name is Gabrielle. Are you going to marry my big sister?"

He was this close to doing the perfect spit-take onto a passing-by Beauxbatons student when the small girl dropped the proverbial bomb on him, and he turned to a horribly embarrassed Fleur.

"She saw the dance," Fleur said, shoulders down in resignation. "So did Mama and Papa."

Harry's eyes swung around the room in panic to find his Master talking to Mr. and Mrs. Delacour, and he just had to voice out his feelings to his Device.

_Fuck me._

Ouroboros just laughed.

Through some bizarre twist of fate, Harry managed to regain his wits and answer Gabrielle's query.

"No, not at the moment," Harry said. "I'm too young to marry."

"Okay!" Gabrielle said. "But I hope you think about it, Monsieur Graham. My big sister tells me a lot about you when she writes home! Like, one time, she said that she tried her - "

"I think that's quite enough for one night, Gabrielle," Fleur said, shushing her sister and dragging her back to their parents. "I couldn't say no."

"Now you know how I feel about being put up to this," Harry answered with an understanding grin as he raised his nearly-empty flute of champagne to the sisters.

* * *

Some time passed, and Harry simply enjoyed sitting by himself on the table, either looking at the dancing going on, or the stars outside.

Thankfully, nobody went up to him for anything more than small talk, and he enjoyed the rest of the ball in relative peace and quiet.

It was way past midnight when the ball ended, and as Harry made to return to the apprentice's quarters appointed to him due to his status as champion of Dun Scaith, a house elf went up to him to pass him a small note.

He only remembered the note after he finally got to his quarters and dressed for bed. Opening it, he saw that there were actually two notes.

One had "I hope I can dance with you again - F" written on it in fancy curves. Another was a bit more damning.

"You and Fleur argue like an old married couple"

Ouroboros' wheezing laughter followed Harry as he fell into an exhausted and exasperated sleep.

* * *

**NOTE:** Scathach's outfit is based on the Heroic Spirit Formal Dress CE. Montague and Claire are from The Crimson Lord's fanfic "Deprived". Speaking of that fanfic, I wonder how a story with Vernon Dursley being a Qi-Gong master raising Harry to become RIKI-OH sound like?

Also her outfit when she made her entrance in the Triwizard? Scathach=Skadi's white dress from her 3rd Ascension. Holding a wand and looking like a witch from Harry Potter (except hotter) got me to work on this year faster.

Also, the song in the tango is a wizarding cover of Sade - Smooth Operator. I really, **REALLY** wanted to use Jazmine Sullivan's "Bust Your Windows", but I couldn't have the Weird Sisters break time and space to perform that, so my apologies (even though I already did that with Dr. Radom singing the Portal ending).

Second part of year 4 (second task, third task and aftermath) will follow.


End file.
